


The Dark Prince's Ascension

by Madriddler



Series: The Dark Prince Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry, Dark Ron Weasley, Dom Voldemort/Tom Riddle, Dom/sub, Dumbledore Bashing, M/M, Neutral Hermione, Sub Harry, Tom Riddle's Diary, Verse Draco, Verse Ron, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 119,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madriddler/pseuds/Madriddler
Summary: At age 12, Harry made a decision that will change the fate of the Wizarding World. Allying himself with Tom Riddle, Harry begins his path towards the Dark Arts, helping Riddle regain his body, and the two becoming a more dark, dangerous and powerful couple than the World has ever seen before. TR/HP DM/RW SB/RL Dark!Harry Dark!Ron Evil!Dumbledore





	1. Chapter 1

 The Dark Prince’s Ascension

**Chapter I**

He was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

His heart beating very fast, Harry stood listening to the chill silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?

He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. He kept his eyes narrowed, ready to clamp them shut at the smallest sign of movement. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following him. More than once, with a jolt of the stomach, he thought he saw one stir.

Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. Harry had to crane his neck to look up into the giant face above. It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard’s sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming red hair.

“Ginny!” Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. “Don’t be dead—don’t be dead—Ron will be very say if you’re dead! Just wake up!”

“She won’t wake,” a soft voice said.

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees. A tall, black-haired, handsome boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as thought Harry was looking at him through a misted window. But there was no mistaking him.

“Tom…Tom Riddle?”

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry’s face.

“What d’you mean she won’t wake?” Harry asked. “She’s not—Is she—“

“She’s still alive, but only barely,” Riddle said. Harry stared at him. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day over sixteen.

“How is this happening?” Harry asked, ignoring his heart’s heighten pace. “Are you a ghost?”

“A memory,” Riddle said quietly. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s giant toes. Lying open there was the little black diary Harry had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Moving immediately, Harry got to the diary and took it. “I thought I lost it,” he breathed, looking at Riddle. “How did all this happen—how did the dairy get out of my room, into here?” he asked.

Riddle chuckled. “Her,” the boy said. “Everything that happened is because Ginny Weasley opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The diary,” Riddle said. “ _My_ diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes—how her brothers tease her, how she had to come ot school with secondhand robes and books, how”—Riddle’s eyes glinted—“how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. …”

All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in there. Harry tried to look away, making an unconscious groan at the last part.

“It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic. I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me _. No one’s ever understand me like you, Tom. …I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in …It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket. …_ ”

Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. “This was her’s?” Harry asked, looking down at the diary.

Riddle just shook his head. “Mine, Harry. The girl has just obtained it. If I may say so Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. Just as it seems I have charmed you.”

“W-What do you mean?” Harry asked.

Riddle just smirked and said, “You’ve showed importance for the diary over the girl, you’ve looked frantically for the diary, Ginny wrote all about your restless nights of looking, it seems through our short encounter, I have seemed to leave a mark on you.” Harry shook his head, denying it, but Riddle just smirked. “No need to hide it Harry, I know how I’ve made you feel. It is all obvious. You coveting my diary.”

“I just… thought you were handsome,” Harry whispered.

Riddle chuckled and said, “How sweet of you. Now, where was I? Oh yes. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. …I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darker secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her…”

“How?” Harry asked. “How did you feed on Ginny’s soul? Why do you need it?”

“Because Harry,” Riddle said coolly, “I need her soul to live. The more she pours into my diary, the more I become more real than memory.”

“That’s…”

“Awful?” Riddle finished. “Of course it is to people like you. After all, you fear what you don’t understand—“

“Then make me understand,” Harry said. “You took her soul from the diary to live,” Harry stated, trying to understand.

“Yes,” Riddle said, a bit stunned off yet interested in Harry’s reaction, the boy still holding the diary close to him. “She poured out her soul to me, and the more she did the stronger I’ve became,” Riddle repeated.

“Do you… do you need all of her soul?” Harry asked, looking down at the diary. He looked up at the handsome boy and said, “Wouldn’t half her soul work?”

“Half?” Riddle laughed. “Stupid boy, why would I stop with only half of her soul? Half of her life?”

“Because…” Harry began, “Couldn’t you uh just use half and uhh find some other way to…”

“Some other way to come back to life?” Riddle asked. He gave Harry a cold, smirk and said, “Sweet, innocent boy. Why would I look for another way when Ginny’s soul is almost mine.”

“Because… because,” Harry said, his eyes darting around trying to find any reason. “I uhh like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, his small cheeks getting a hint of rose.

“Then say it,” Riddle said. “Say ‘I like you Tom Riddle.’”

Harry’s cheeks turned from the rose tint to flaming as he looked at the handsome boy standing in front of him. “I like you Tom Riddle,” Harry said.

Riddle smirked. “A childhood crush,” he said. “But I am glad that my diary fell into your hands. I was getting bored of Weasley, and she was starting to become suspicious of me. Blackouts, memory loss… the girl started to distrust me. That was, until, you came into the picture, sweet Harry. Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history.” His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead, and their expressions grew hungrier. “I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust—“

“Hagrid’s my friend,” Harry said, his voice starting to shake. “And you framed him, didn’t you? I thought you made a mistake, but—“

Riddle laughed his high laugh again.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student …on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrest trolls… but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought _someone_ must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance…as though Hagrid had the brains or the power!

“Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. …Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…”

“I bet Dumbledore saw right through you,” Harry said, still clutching the diary.

“Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” Riddle said carelessly. “I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still in school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work. And it seems, that I have found that person.” Riddle smirked.

“You haven’t! You haven’t finished it, nobody died this time!” Harry said triumphantly.

“And yet you are still holding the diary,” Riddle said. “Besides… killing mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore. For many months now, my new target has been— _you_.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” Riddle said. “Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. Ginny told me that you could never let down a good mystery, especially if that mystery gotten your best friend hurt… and that you are a Parseltongue. So I’ve had Miss Weasley write her own goodbye letter, all so that we could meet here.”

“But why?” Harry asked. “Why are you so fascinated with me?”

“Well for one, it is the same reason why you are so fascinated with me,” Voldemort smirked. “Also, I have so many questions for you Harry. Such as how is it that you—a small boy—managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

There was an odd red gleam in his brown hungry eyes.

“Why do you care so much about Voldemort?” Harry asked slowly. “He was after your time…”

“Harry… Voldemort is my past, present, and future,” Riddle said softly. He took out Harry’s wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

“You see?” he whispered. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. And yet… even knowing this you still hold onto my diary so… why is that?”

“I…I don’t know,” Harry said, strong conflicting feelings raging inside him; the poor twelve year old not understanding or even able to name these emotions. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Riddle smirked at that. “How queer,” he said. The boy finally moved, his footsteps echoing off the Chamber as he walked towards Harry, each step measured and precise. When he reached the kneeling boy, Riddle looked down. “Why aren’t you yelling, Harry Potter? I am the man who killed your parents; the monster that the Wizarding World trembles of. Dumbledore ran away at the mere _memory_ of me! Why aren’t you reacting?”

Harry looked up at Riddle. He’s supposed to hate him, he is. But for some untold reason he can’t. His arms tightened around the diary. “I don’t know Tom,” Harry said. “I… I…”

“Stand,” Riddle ordered. A sensation to obey filled Harry completely and he stood, shocked at his body’s reactions. Riddle, also surprised, just looked down at the young boy. “You want my diary Harry,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. So how about we make a small agreement then.”

“Agreement?” Harry asked warily, his eyes looking down at his wand in Riddle’s hands. _This is Voldemort_ he thought. _I need to be careful._

“Yes,” Riddle smirked. He started walking around Harry. “You want to keep my diary and save the girl Weasley’s life, yet I tell you I need her soul so I can live. So tell me Harry, why should I just kill you now? Unleash Slytherin’s Basilisk and have it devour you as I finish taking the rest of Weasley’s soul?”

Riddle walked in a slow circle around Harry, his eyes glaring into him, but still Harry stood his ground. Still clutching the book Harry looked straight up at Riddle, their eyes meeting, and he said, “Because I have a better plan.”

“Oh?” Riddle said amused.

“Yeah,” Harry said, not losing his courage. “Take half of Ginny’s soul. Take half of hers… and half of mine. I will keep the diary, use it… keep in contact with you—“

“And in exchange for you staying with your crush,” Riddle smirked. “I get to become stronger on the soul of the boy I desperately wanted to meet.” Riddle looked down at Harry. “You know what this mean, don’t you Harry? You keep the diary, and you become mine.”

Harry blushed and bit his lip, trying to control his prepubescent hormones and body. “So many ideas Harry… she told me the rumors, that you were almost sorted in Slytherin. So tell me, is it true?”

Harry looked up at Riddle and nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then why weren’t you?” Riddle asked.

“I asked the Sorting Hat not to. It told me Slytherin would lead me to greatness, but it’s wrong,” Harry said. Riddle’s eyes narrowed, but Harry stood his ground. “Malfoy’s in Slytherin, I don’t want to be in the same House with that Prat.”

“I see… you would rather have a childish fight than achieve greatness…” Riddle shook his head. “That is something we will need to get out of you Harry. Now then Harry… I am willing to accept this, but first you need to tell me one thing.”

“What?” Harry asked, curious and a bit apprehensive.

Riddle smirked, “Simply tell me Harry that you are mine. Say, ‘I, Harry Potter, belong to Tom Marvolo Riddle.’ Do this and I promise you many great things.”

“Ron’s sister will be safe? And the Basilisk attacks will be done… and the dairy will be mine?” Harry asked, looking down at the small black diary in his arms.

Riddle smiled a surprisingly honest smile and said, “Yes. Everything will be as you say. All you have to do is say those words.”

Harry blushed and bit his lip as he thought. One on hand, here is Tom Riddle, the boy he had a crush on since he first saw him in the memory, the sixteen year old who couldn’t escape Harry’s mind. But he is also Lord Voldemort, the man who killed his parents. In his mind and heart complex emotions swirled inside, his body aching as a headache. He so wanted to be with Tom, his crush. He told him that he could be great, that there were so many things that he could give to Harry and Harry wanted to know each and every thing Riddle could give. Yet… he is the man who killed his mum, killed his dad. He is the one person who is responsible for Harry to be forced to live with his aunt, his uncle… his cousin. If it weren’t for this handsome boy standing in front of him, Harry would have had a family, a normal family. His mum and dad and him. Still… Harry couldn’t resist the handsome boy in front of him, he couldn’t resist the soft gaze, or his pale, strong body. The emotions inside him battered his body numb as he thought, Riddle waiting patiently for his response.

The Chamber was dead quiet, Harry and Riddle just standing in front of each other, Ginny’s unconscious body forgotten by the feet of the statue. Finally, after the tense quiet that overwhelmed them, Harry looked up at Riddle, his throat dry and lips trembling as he nodded. “Yes. …I Harry Potter belong to Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

He felt something inside him move, something that awoken or changed, Harry couldn’t tell. All he knew was that as soon as those words left his lips, he felt altered, changed forever. Riddle gave Harry a strange, hungry smile as he looked down at the boy.

“Good Harry, you have chosen correctly,” Riddle said. “There is just one more thing…” And before Harry knew it, Riddle bent down and pulled the small second year for a kiss! It was brief, but still its message was clear. Standing dazed in Riddle’s arms, Harry just watched as Tom Riddle slipped his wand back into Harry’s robes. “You are mine Harry. Do not forget that,” Riddle whispered in his ear.

Harry just nodded.

Tom smiled and moved away from the small boy. “And now, as I promised Harry, I will hold my first end of this agreement.” He moved towards the unconscious body of Ginny Weasley and bent down. Harry watched as Tom placed a hand on her forehead, and slowly up surely started to become more faded and blurry. When the boy stood up, Harry thought he looked like a reflection off of a shimmering river that never stopped. The reflection walked back towards Harry and took his chin. “See Harry, I always keep my agreements, and I am merciful. You have nothing to worry about little boy.” Harry swore he saw a smirking smile on the reflection’s face. “Together, we are going to achieve the greatness you deserve. We are forever linked Harry, remember that.”

Harry just nodded again, giving the reflection an odd smile.

There was a sound, and both the reflection and Harry looked around. Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair of Harry’s scalp. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was fling straight at Harry.

“A phoenix,” Riddle said.

“Fawkes!” Harry said.

“And it brought the Sorting Hat,” Riddle said, looking at the old hat the phoenix dropped. He then laughed and shook his head. “Dumbledore,” he muttered “always a second too late. So unreliable. Don’t worry Harry, you won’t need to depend on the old fool anymore.”

The reflection took a step closer, and Harry could have swore he felt him and Riddle connect, the boy disappearing both into his body and the diary. It felt hot, yet comforting; like Harry was being snuggled against a tall, broad body. Above all, however, it felt safe, like a hug a father would give to his son. “Dad,” Harry unconsciously said.

He heard a chuckle in his own head, and Riddle’s voice ringing out “No Harry, it is me. As we have agreed, you can have the diary as I have you. Right now I am lingering in both, still trapped in the diary, and yet I can still be inside you, listening to your thoughts, looking through your eyes. I am a shadow that will never leave your side. As long as you hold the diary close to you, I will always be there.”

“Like a guardian angel?” Harry asked, earning Riddle’s laughter.

“If you want to put it in such a way, then yes. But I am more important to you than a simple angel Harry, but that we can discuss later. For now, hide the book before the girl awakes, and make sure that bird doesn’t see it.”

Harry nodded and quickly turned as he pocketed the diary. He looked around and quickly ran towards Ginny.

“Search her robes!” Riddle’s voice whispered inside him. “There should be another book identical to my diary. She thought she was being clever, using that one as a decoy in case you see it again. The foolish girl. Take the book and destroy it.”

“How?”

“You’re a wizard Harry,” the voice said as Harry bent down Ginny’s body, muttered an apology and started searching. “Use your wand! You should know the spell.”

Harry nodded and made a noise as he felt the book and pulled it out. Just as Riddle said, it looked exactly like his diary. Taking out his wand, he muttered, “ _Incendio!_ ”

A small fire began in the center of the book, and burned through it, leaving black angry singe marks around the edge of the fire as Harry opened the fake diary and continued to burn the pages, making it so the entire center was destroyed. When he was done, there was a giant hole in the center of the ruined diary, burn marks and smoke damage destroying the remaining pages.

“Excellent Harry,” Riddle’s voice whispered. “Now, simply repeat after me.”

There came a moan from Ginny as she stirred. Her bemused eyes traveled the empty Chamber, to Harry and the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

“Harry—oh, Harry—I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I couldn’t say it in front of Percy—it was me, Harry—but I—I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to—R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over—and—Where’s Riddle? The last thing I remember is him coming out of the dairy—“

“He’s gone,” Harry said. “Everything is alright Ginny. The diary is destroyed, see? The basilisk is gone as well, I took care of everything. Riddle is finished, the basilisk is gone, and the dairy is destroyed, see?” Harry showed her the destroyed diary. In her hazy mind, she just stared at it, believing him. “Now come on Ginny, let’s get out of here—“

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept as Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet. “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and now I’ll have to leave and— _what’ll Mum and Dad say_?”

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry urged Ginny forward through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Harry heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.

“I may have failed Slytherin’s goal,” Tom Riddle whispered in his mind, “But I have still succeeded. Together Harry, we have succeeded.

 _What about Ginny? Now that you have half of her soul?_ Harry thought.

“She will life a half life, but it is a small price for us to achieve our goals. Forget her Harry,” Tom Riddle whispered. Harry could have sworn he could hear the teen smirk as he said, “Besides, from your fascination with my diary… I can tell you will not like her. At least the way she likes you.”

 _I know, I’m a poof. I’ve known since I was seven and accidently walked into Piers getting dress,_ Harry thought, a strange feeling started to bubble inside him. Regret? Fear?

“Harry!” Ron’s voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts as they’ve approached the landslide of rocks.

“Ron! I’ve got Ginny! She’s going to be okay!” Harry yelled. He heard a strangled cheer and they heard rocks being pushed out of the way before Ron’s eager face appeared staring through a sizable gap he had managed in the rock fall.

“Ginny!” Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How—what—where did that bird come from?”

Harry heard Riddle’s chuckle. He climbed through the hole himself, and after Fawkes landed on his shoulder, offering him his talon, they all flew out, one holding onto the other as the phoenix carried them out of the Chamber of Secrets. Riddle led Harry, telling him that they needed to play the role of Hero. “You have done well with the girl Harry, but the old man will be suspicious. He knows of the basilisk, and will be suspicious of many things. Follow my voice, let your mouth speak my words and we will be fine.”

 _Okay,_ Harry thought, just happy to have the diary, and in larger extent the sixteen year old Tom Riddle , near his body, the dairy practically touching him through his robe pocket. They found their way to Professor McGonagall’s office. The door opened and Mrs. Weasley practically burst out, pulling Ginny into a fierce hug. Harry looked past them and saw Professor Dumbledore, standing by the mantelpiece beaming. Suddenly, he found himself in Mrs. Weasley’s tight embrace, the woman hugging both him and Ron.

Harry found himself telling a tale for the next ten minutes, mixing his lies with Ginny’s truths as Riddle whispered in his ear. He wanted this to be over, he didn’t know how long he would able to last.

“You have done a fine job, Harry,” Dumbledore congratulated. “If you would please sit down with me. Professor McGonagall, if you would lead the Weasleys to the Hospital Wing, it would be greatly appreciated. …In fact, I do believe Professor Lockhart here would also need to visit the wing.” Everyone left, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone.

“Keep calm Harry,” Riddle whispered. “You need to stay calm, and listen to me.”

“First of all,” Dumbledore began, “Harry, I want to thank you. You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.” He stroke the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. “And so you met Tom Riddle. I imagine he was most interested in you. …”

 _He was, and I’m interested in him,_ Harry thought. Riddle ignored the thought and began whispering in Harry’s ear. “I did… and he was. He wanted to know how I survived against Lord Voldemort,” Harry said.

“Oh?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes,” Harry nodded.

“Well, I must say that is to be expected. Tom Riddle believed that he was going to be the most powerful and feared wizard in the entire world. To hear that a mere child, a babe of one year, managed to defeat him and only suffer a scar on his forehead, well it must have hurt his ego,” Dumbledore said.

Harry just nodded. “Sir? How is it that Riddle came out of the diary? He described himself as a memory but… that’s not possible, is it?”

Dumbledore looked at him. “There are many things in the world that even I cannot explain. How Voldemort came out of the diary”—his hand gestured towards the burnt diary laying on Professor McGonagall’s desk—“I cannot explain nor do I know. What I do know, however, is that you have done a very courageous thing, and for that I must thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” Harry said.

Dumbledore smiled and stood up. “Well, I believe you need some food and rest. I suggest you go down to the feast, which I write to Azkaban—we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too,” he added thoughtfully. “We’ll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. …Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?”

“That would mostly be because of me, I guess,” Tom Riddle’s voice whispered in Harry’s voice. “I have wanted to spread my knowledge and ideals to the next generation, after I have gained what I am… was looking for. Dumbledore must have denied me and I cursed the position in retaliation.”

 _I can see why, you turned into Voldemort_ Harry thought.

“I am Voldemort,” Riddle said. “Do not try to separate us Harry. The man you defeated is as much me as I am him. You are mine Harry, and I promise I will treat you kindly, as long as you remember that. I am Voldemort.”

 _...Okay,_ Harry sighed in his head.

“Good, now stand up and return to the feast. The old fool is right, we need rest after tonight,” Riddle said. Harry stood up, said his goodbye to Dumbledore, and walked out of the office. He returned back to the Great Hall and sat down in the Gryffindor table. He looked around, a strange feeling deep in his bowels as he looked at his fellow Gryffindors enjoying the feast. They were all smiling, and happily chatting their mundane conversations as they ate.  He looked down at the food on his golden plate and started eating. He was hungry, starving even, so eating was not a problem. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel different from the others, maybe it’s because of Riddle’s new influence, or something deep inside him started to bloom, but nevertheless he looked around the Gryffindor Table, memorizing all of their smiling faces, and he felt… different. He just couldn’t understand it.

“Do not worry Harry, in time all will become clear,” Riddle’s voice whispered gently. “For now, just trust me. Trust me, and allow me to guide you, as per our agreement.”

Harry nodded, and picked up his fork. “Okay,” he said out loud and started to eat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The layout of this chapter is completely different from the rest of the story as the story takes place in 4th year, with barely anything changing in the third year, and those changes has been noted by Harry.

**Chapter II**

_July 1st 1993_

_I’m sorry Tom, but for now you’re going to have to say in the diary as long as we are with my relatives. They are Muggles and absolutely despise magic._

“Harry, why is it that you stay with them then? A wizard forced to live with muggles, I will not allow it. Especially when that wizard is my protégé. You will leave that disgusting house at once or I will have them killed.”

_But Tom, I have nowhere to go. The Dursleys is the only place I know. And I can’t kill them! Tom why are you even suggesting that?_

“Nowhere to go? I am disappointed in you Harry. There is the Leaky Cauldron. And if not there, then there is an old inn on Knockturn Alley.”

_Tom, I don’t think I’m ready to go to Knockturn Alley yet, at least on purpose. And believe me, I want to get away from them, I hate them. But I have no way to get to all the way to London. I can’t use my broomstick, someone will see me, and I’m not allowed to use magic._

“Then call the Knight Bus, Harry. It is simple; just stick your wand in the air near a road, you will not use magic for that. Pack your things tonight, and then tomorrow we shall move to the Leaky Cauldron. It will be better there Harry. We will be surrounded by wizards, and I can start teaching you.”

_What will you be teaching me?_

“Many things Harry, but first we must get to the Leaky Cauldron. Then, and only then, can we talked freely. Also, I want you to regularly write in here, Harry. Even if it’s about subjects we have already discussed, and even if I do not reply. The more you write, the stronger we will become. And one day, I might be strong enough to come out of the diary again. For a short time.”

_Okay, I’ll continue to write then. Good night Tom._

“Good night Harry.”

 

_July 2 nd 1993_

_Tom, thank you for suggesting the Knight Bus, I feel much more relieved to be at the Leaky Cauldron than at Private Drive. My uncle’s sister Marge was coming over and I just hate her almost as much as she hates me. Anyway, the room I’m in is perfect: no muggles anywhere, and I’m finally able to be by myself. The barkeep, also named Tom, was alright, he gave me the room half off and it’s exciting to think that I can go to Diagon Alley anytime I want to._

_I couldn’t sleep last night, so I just packed as much clothes as I could into my trunk, got Hedwig’s cage, and left before anyone could wake up. I’ve walked down the street, it was dark and, while I am embarrassed to admit there, I encountered a giant black dog. It lunged at me, and I accidently called the Knight Bus as I fell. When I looked, the dog was gone! I don’t know where the dog went, but still it was odd._

_Anyway, the real reason why I wanted to write right now is that I have some questions for you. And I want you to answer them truthfully. I need to know these things Tom, before we continue whatever this is. Why did you kill my parents? Why did you want to kill me? I was only one, Tom. One, and you took my parents away from me, my family. I need to know why Tom. Please._

“Power. Everything I have done, and everything I do is for Power. I am the same Dark Lord that killed your parents Harry, never forget that, but as of the time my diary was made into what it is, I have no committed that act so I have no memory of it. By your scar, and of what the young Weasley told me, my target that night was you, but for what purpose I cannot say nor know. Perhaps Dumbledore will know, though we will have the summer to only speculate. If you want a truthful answer, then I will say that it was cowardly of what my future self have done. Killing a magical babe is wrong, Harry. I cannot even begin to think of what my mind was running through to even make the act possible, not to mention favorable.

“As for what we are, it should be obvious to Harry. You have agreed to be mine, and that is what you are. You are mine Harry. My responsibility, my ward, and my greatest accomplish. Our relationship is what you will it to be. I always keep my agreements Harry, remember that.”

_I know you do Tom._

“Good. Now, just enjoy yourself Harry. You have escaped from those horrible Muggles. After your first year, and your second year I do believe that you deserve it.”

_Thank you Tom, I’ll write to you later._

_July 6 th 1993_

_I ran into Malfoy. I don’t know how I did it, or even what I was doing. I’m going to try and recreate everything that happened up to that point and afterwards. It was very weird, and I’m still trying to process it, but I will try my best._

_It was the middle of the day, I just finished eating lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and wanted to just wander around the Alley. The Quidditch shop, Quidditch Quality Supplies was showcasing the new Firebolt and I thought about just visiting the shop to just look at it, admire the broom’s craft and whatnot. The shop was opposite the entryway for Knockturn Alley and I just turned around just in time to see Malfoy’s blonde hair turning around the corner. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I followed him. He seemed to be looking for some kind of shop, but I couldn’t tell what as he turned around and just stared at me._

_“What do you want Potter?” he asked, his grey eyes just staring at me._

_“Nothing,” I quickly said. Because it was true, I wanted nothing; I was just following him for some reason._

_“Why are you in Knockturn Alley?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t the Golden Boy stay out of here? Who knows what’ll happen to the small Gryffindor.” He tried to stir me on, but I ignored it._

_“I’m just looking around,” I lied. “I wanted to do some shopping here.”_

_He stared at me like I had three heads. “Potter, you do know where you are right? This is Knockturn Alley. As in, the place where good Gryffindors like you shouldn’t even step in.”_

_“Then why are you in here?” I asked. “And why not?”_

_He continued to stare at me, confused out of his mind. Finally he said, “Potter… what is wrong with you?”_

_“Nothing,” I shrugged. “I just want to shop.”_

_He continued to just stare at me, it was weird. “There’s something odd about you Potter… and I will figure it out,” he said. “You shouldn’t be in Knockturn Alley, you shouldn’t even think about setting a foot in this Dark Place. Look around Potter, you are surrounded by Dark Wizards, Dark Artifacts and The Dark Arts. Why are you here and not running away to Dumbledore?”_

_“I just don’t want to,” I shrugged. “I was just curious to see what you were doing here Malfoy. Nothing more, nothing less. See you.”_

_I began to walk away when Malfoy stopped me. “Potter. If you are serious of what I believe you are talking about, meet me back here in this exact spot tomorrow at six. I will show you where exactly I have gone to. And in the process, I will figure out what is wrong with you.”_

_He turned dramatically and continued on his way while I walked back into Diagon Alley, still completely confused. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for the next few hours, it even distracted me as I tried looking at the Firebolt again. I do not know what he wants, or what he is talking about, or even how all of this happened but as soon as I couldn’t take it anymore, I’ve ran back to my room and immediately started writing to you._

_Anyway, it’s now seven at night, I have yet to dinner but I’m bringing the diary with me downstairs as I eat. I hope that Tom the barkeep have a quill and inkwell so that we can continue this conversation._

“Interesting. If I am correct with the ages, I remember Draco Malfoy’s grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. He was not part of my Death Eaters, but apparently his son, Lucius is. The Malfoy family is old, well connected, and deeply situated in the Dark Arts. They were a family that I personally was jealous of for quite some time. Personally, I would say for you to try and befriend Draco. He can be helpful for our ultimate goal, and besides, it is good to have many friends, don’t you think?

“Anyway, I am happy that you are enjoying your time Harry, freedom is something that everyone should have. Though, I would like to start your training soon. I do not have enough energy to have a physical form yet, but I will instruct you from here. I would like you to go out and buy a book. _The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts_. If I remember correctly, it should be a text that will be required for your year. I would like to start our training with simply preparing you for the next year. I am warning you now, I am going to teach you the Dark Arts. You are my protégé Harry, my heir, and I will make sure you know the proper spells of what my heir needs.”

 

_July 7 th 1993_

_I have the book, and I’ve met up with Malfoy. He was looking at an adult shop. Did you know that the Ministry had laws against that sort of stuff? He didn’t buy anything, just looked at the stuff. I looked at them too and well… something happened in my pants I don’t know how to explain. Anyway Malfoy and I started talking, He knew that something odd was happening to me, I think I look different but I cannot tell, he talked about some aura or something, that mine’s not the same from the last time he saw me. Do you know what he is talking about?_

“Ahh yes, aura… I am sorry that you have never heard of it, and that I have not explained it properly. I never thought an opportunity would arise when you’ll need to learn about it. A wizard’s aura is the aftereffect that magic leaves behind them. The Darker the magic they used, the darker their aura becomes. I am impressed that Draco Malfoy is able to see it; it is a rare gift to see a wizard’s aura. When I was in Hogwarts, the only staff to see auras was Dumbledore, which is one of the reasons I believe he suspected me. He saw my darkness before I knew it existed. There is a way to hide it, but it is difficult. The next time you see Malfoy, ask him what your aura’s color is. Perhaps our agreement has darken it slightly, but that should be normal as auras tend to fluctuate as the witch or wizard experiment in any way. It is nothing for you to worry about for now. Although as we continue, I will need to teach you how to hide your aura. It is an advance technique but I am positive that you can do it.

“As for the other thing… no, you are too young to know about it. You are still twelve Harry, and I will not ruin your innocence yet. Just know that what you have experienced is natural, and that store is natural as well.”

_Okay… wow, I never knew something like that existed. And thank you for telling me it’s natural Tom, it actually relieves me a bit. And I promise to ask Malfoy the next time I see him._

_July 24 th 1993_

_I’ve ran into Malfoy again. He told me that he is the first Aura reader in his family in a hundred years. He was shocked that I even known about Auras, but I didn’t tell him it was from you, I don’t know if you want me to tell him and others about your existence Tom. He told me that Light-Oriented Wizards had a Golden glow around them. It’s faint, but very noticeable like an outline just surrounded the person, while Wizards who practice Dark Magic’s auras are of a Dark Green color. He said that last year my aura was a perfect Golden Color, more golden than Dumbledore’s himself who has the brightest glow. But now, though it is still mostly golden, Draco can see a hint of green near my scar. That’s how he knew something odd was happening to me. We talked afterwards and it was weird… he was being nice to me and even offered his hand again like he did in first year. I took it._

_July 31 st 1993_

_It’s my birthday today Tom. I’m thirteen years old, officially a teenager. I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve taught me so far. We’re halfway through the textbook you told me to buy, and I think I’m ready to give Potions another try. I’m planning to see Draco again today, I’ve told him how today is my birthday, and he wanted to give me a present. Oh, I have to go, I think that is Draco at the door._

“Happy Birthday Harry. Thirteen is an important age. I believe I have enough energy to spend five minutes with you outside the Diary. Thank you for your soul, it is being most helpful, and very interesting. As a birthday present I will tell you what I am, what you are. This is something that Dumbledore will never want you to know. The Diary is a Horcrux Harry, as are you. I am no mere memory; I am half of my soul, the soul of Lord Voldemort. The Diary holds this piece of my soul, as do you Harry. I do not know how you’ve become a Horcrux, but you are one. As much as you might hate it, you hold a piece of my soul, a piece of Voldemort’s soul. I can feel it inside you; it is the only reason why you are not feeling weak from using my Diary. My small piece of soul is saving you Harry. I thought it would be best to know that. We’ll talk later about it. Have fun with Malfoy, and remember everything I have taught you.”

_That can’t be true… How can I hold your soul Tom!? I don’t want Voldemort’s soul! Please, get out of the Diary so we can talk about it!_

_August 15 th 1993_

_I’m so sorry Tom. I’m sorry that I haven’t talk to you for fifteen days. I’ve kept the diary locked in the nightstand next to my bed. I just couldn’t understand, or even begin to think. … Voldemort is inside me. I have his soul inside me, but what about my soul? Why do I have his? I just don’t understand Tom, I really don’t. I don’t think I can handle any of this. You need to tell me. We’re stuck together, I know that, but I need to understand._

“I am disappointed in you Harry. But I will explain it again. I am half of Voldemort’s soul, I have split my soul when I was sixteen and placed it in my Diary, this is what you have fallen for. I am only half a soul, yet because of that Voldemort and the Horcrux are immortal. I wanted to achieve immortality Harry, and to do so I have made my Horcrux, and many more afterwards. Do I regret my actions? No, I do not. I wanted to achieve immortality, and I have. You should be glad to be my Horcrux Harry, it means that you too hold immortality. Horcruxes are impossible to destroy; in my research I have found nothing that can destroy one. Together, we will usher a new age for our Wizarding Community. All I need is for you to trust me. Can you do that Harry? I can only guess at how world-shattering this news must be to you, but the sooner we accept this, the sooner everything can become better.

“Just one more thing Harry, never ignore me for days on end like you have again. It will lead you only to trouble from me, as well as you. For now, since this is your first disobedience the punishment will be light. I want you to write lines. Twenty times, write ‘I am Voldemort’s Horcrux” into the diary. After that, write ‘I accept this.’”

 

_August 17 th 1993_

_I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux. I am Voldemort’s Horcrux._

_I accept this._

“Thank you, Harry. I’m sorry, but you have to know this.”

_It’s okay Tom… can I just have a couple of days? I just need it._

“Of course. Continue practicing from your textbooks Harry, keep that Monster book of Monsters locked, and come back to me when you’re ready. Just keep me close to your body Harry, the nightstand was hell.”

 

_August 23 rd 1993_

_Met with Draco again. Once you get past his snobby attitude, he’s actually a decent bloke. He kept saying that my aura is still the same: Golden with a hint of green. I thought that it would change throughout the days, but it doesn’t. Anyway, I’m doing good with the textbooks you’ve given me. Apparently Malfoy is also a poof like me. Who would have thought?_

_August 31 st 1993_

_Ron and Hermione are here. I’ve failed to mention this but around the Alley are posters for an escapee from Azkaban called Sirius Black. He is the first person to ever escape Azkaban, Hermione and Ron told me that. We’re leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow and Mr. Weasley had told me that apparently the Ministry of Magic has given Hogwarts extra security as they look for Black._

_I did not tell Ron or Hermione about the diary, I never will, but I need an excuse in case they see me holding onto it. I hope that Ginny has already forgotten about what happened a few months ago, she looks as if nothing has happened, and if the worst case scenario happens that I can lie my way out of their questions. We are leaving early for Hogwarts tomorrow, so I might not be able to talk with you for a bit Tom._

_September 10 th 1993_

_I am so sorry for the delay Tom. I’ve kept the diary with me all the time but this is the first time I have gotten to actually write in it. There are Dementors here. Dementors, and one of them almost killed me. I heard the night that Voldemort killed my parents, more specifically my mother’s scream. I am fine. I don’t want to talk about it in more detail; Anyway we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Remus Lupin. He knew my parents apparently._

_Draco and I still meet up whenever we can, and every time he comforts me that my aura is still Golden with a hint of green. He told me that it was weird looking at me from the Slytherin table, all around the room is just a sea of Gold and there I am with my tinted green. He likes it, makes me stand out in a good way he told me._

_Anyway, we started classes and the only things of note is that Divination is very boring, Care of Magical Creatures is made alright because of Hagrid, he had brought hippogriffs and one of them, Buckbeak I think it’s name was, almost hurt Draco. Last thing to write about is Professor Lupin. I love him, we had our first lesson and we actually did a practical lesson! We went against boggarts and learned how to go against them. Although, I never had a chance since Professor Lupin jumped in front of me and the boggart turned into this silver orb. Dumbledore is still not suspecting anything has changed. I don’t think he ever will._

_The door’s opening! It’s Ron, I have to go. I promise not to wait so long in between entries. Sorry again Tom!_

_November 15 th 1993_

_I’m documenting this because you told me to Tom. We have gotten a nice rhythm with diary entries, I would just close my bed’s curtains at the end of the day for a while before opening them again. I’ve gotten the idea from seeing Ron doing it. Anyway, the whole school is still on high alert looking for Sirius Black. I’m still upset at losing my Nimbus Two Thousand. The Dementors were sent further away from the school, but I can still see them sometimes. The only good thing that came out was that I was able to convince Professor Lupin to teach me the Patronus Charm. It’s a spell that protects against Dementors and drive them away. At least I’ll have that during the Quidditch matches! If I ever get a new broom._

“The Patronus Charm is a very difficult spell. I know you can do it, but as your Aura shifts towards the Dark Arts, your Patronus might change or even fail to come. A warning incase that does happen in the future.”

 

_December 25 th 1993_

_What happened was so amazing, I just had to write it down here. I’m sorry for telling you what you know already happened._

_It happened with my presents, I’ve gotten a Firebolt! I don’t know who gave me the Firebolt, there was no tag on it, but I’m so happy to get it, it’s the best broom in the world! Draco was several shades jealous when he saw. Hermione tried to take it away, claiming that it could be cursed by Sirius Black, but I’ve managed to convince her otherwise. I don’t know how, but it has to be from your influence Tom, so thank you so much for that. These past few months I’ve learned so much from you already…_

_But the best part of today has to be that I was able to touch you again Tom. I’ve found an empty classroom near the seventh floor and placed the diary onto the teacher’s desk. The book began to glow, and out of the pages came a hazy mist that surrounded the teacher’s desk, rising in the air before taking form. You weren’t completely focused yet, you still looked hazy around the edges of your form, but you were solid, which was all we cared about Tom._

_You were sitting on the teacher’s desk, your leg crossed over the other, the diary right next to you as you smiled at me. “Harry, my sweet heir… I am so proud of you,” you said. “Come. I have a Christmas gift of my own for you.”_

_My face was beet red as I walked up to you Tom, I couldn’t imagine what you were going to do, I really hoped that it would be a kiss, but it was so much more. With strength that I did not know you had, you pulled me into your lap. Taking my cheeks in your hand, you tilted my head towards you and pulled me into a kiss. It was… amazing. It was fierce, demanding and I just loved every moment of it Tom, I really did. I don’t know how to describe my feelings towards you, but I know that I enjoyed that kiss very much. You’ve moved away slowly, I leaned forward trying to taste your lips again but you just smiled and patted my lap. “Patience Harry, tonight I just want to talk with you,” you said._

_And we did. With me sitting content on your lap, we just talked… I told you about everything that happened in my life, everything that was happening in Hogwarts and you just sat there and listened, giving me your opinion on everything, and giving me so many things to think about. It was nearly perfect. I know that everything I write in here disappears so you can use the ink, but can you please keep this date? I just want to know that our kiss will be in these pages forever._

_Thank you Tom._

_January 8 th 1994_

_I had my first lesson with Professor Lupin. It’s harder than I thought. I’m barely producing even a white mist! I was so exhausted at the end of this. I’m supposed to think of a happy memory, but no matter which memory I’ve picked, it isn’t strong enough. But I won’t give up, not until I’m able to at least protect myself from the Dementors if they show again._

_February 14 th 1994_

_I’ve figured out why Draco was at the adult shop. I know what those things he was looking at do. …He told me._

_March 2 nd 1994_

_I can do a Patronus!_

_June 7 th 1994_

_I’m in the Hospital Bed, everyone else is sleeping and Tom, I have a story. I had to keep the diary in the nightstand, so I’m sorry you couldn’t experience this with me. Sirius Black is my godfather. He wasn’t betrayed my parents to Voldemort, instead it was a man named Peter Pettigrew. He’s an Animagus, they all are. Pettigrew, Sirius, and my dad. Remember the Marauders I’ve told you about? That is them. My dad was Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Remus is Mooney and, well Pettigrew is Wormtail, the bastard. Sirius and Remus explained the whole thing to us at the Shrieking Shack. They almost got Wormtail, they were going to bring him to the dementors, but he got away when Remus transformed in the moonlight. You were right Tom, Lupin is a werewolf. Anyway, after Lupin transformed into a werewolf, Sirius shifted into the Grim that I’ve been seeing recently. They fought, I ran to see Sirius almost losing his soul to Dementors, only to be fought back by a powerful Patronus which I conjured when Hermione and I went back in time using her Time Turner… it’s very confusing and I still don’t fully understand what exactly happened._

_All I know is that I’m safe, everyone is safe, Sirius is free and I’m back with you Tom. Madam Pomfrey is coming and I’m supposed to be asleep. The Diary is under my shirt on my back. I will write later, Good night Tom._

_June 20 th 1994_

_I’m heading to the Burrow for the Summer. I’m not even going to spend a day with the Durselys. Dumbledore disagrees with this idea, but I don’t think I can even stand to look at them ever again. Also, I cannot help but notice Ron. He seemed to be acting strange, like he is confused about several things._

_August 18 th 1994_

_They’re back, the Death Eaters are back. They’ve attacked the Quidditch World Cup, I don’t know how it happened. It was horrible—they were suspending a family of muggles in the air like rag dolls, laughing at them as they paraded around, burning tents as they’ve went. I lost my friends quickly in the crowd only to be knocked unconscious. When I came to, there was a man. I couldn’t see what he looked like, I only heard his voice, but he yelled a spell I’ve never heard before and your mark, the Dark Mark appeared in the sky._

“Harry, I am sorry to interrupt you, but this news is troubling. I was planning of doing this later, when you are nearer to my age of sixteen, but now it seems I have no choice. Harry, this year I will be teaching you the Dark Arts. Know that once we’ve begin you’ll be walking down a path you cannot escape from. Your Golden Aura will be forever tainted as it turns to green, and soon Dumbledore will be suspicious. Knowing these odds, I need to stress that it is important for you to learn the Dark Arts, Harry. They will help you survive Harry, and know that I will be with you every step of the way. It will be very difficult for you in the beginning, but at the end you and I will be more powerful than we ever know.

“I do not know what exactly you have been told about the Dark Arts, but just know that they are lies. Dark Magic is not evil, nor is it void of love. Dumbledore may have said that I can’t love, but that is false. I have loved, a couple of times, but those are discussions for later. For now, we need to focus on you Harry. I want to protect you, and in order to do that, you must learn the Dark Arts and I have to get out of this cursed Diary. I do not know what my present self is doing, or even if he is still alive, but if your dream of the old man is true than I can only guess that he is and his form is an embarrassment. To think that I am forced to rely on a cowardly traitor like Wormtail. You are a more loyal person than that insignificant worm.

“Sorry, I am just frustrated at my present state. Me, half of my soul trapped in a diary and only able to come out to touch you only an hour a month if we’re lucky, and Lord Voldemort, old and in a weakened state that is worse than death. We need to release my soul out of this book, I need my body back… and the only way to do complete any of our tasks Harry, is for you to learn the Dark Arts. Are you ready, my sweet Harry?”

_I am._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Hogwarts is to be the host of the Triwizard Tournament. At least that is what Dumbledore announced at the Start-of-Term Feast. Harry only half-listened to what the old man said, instead he tried to figure out how exactly he would help Tom. However, the only interesting thing was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, ex-Auror Mad Eye Moody. Tom seemed to freeze in Harry’s mind as Moody was introduced. _Tom, what’s wrong?_ Harry thought.

“An Auror, Dumbledore has an auror in Hogwarts,” Tom’s voice said in Harry’s head (He was currently hiding the diary in his robes just so he could hear Tom’s voice). “This is very troublesome Harry.”

_Why so?_

“Aurors are excepts at fighting and catching Dark Wizards. We must be extremely careful around him,” Tom said. “We are lucky that we did not begin your dark arts training yet. Your aura should still be the same, though that will change. If we’ve started during the summer, then there would be a drastic difference and I am afraid that the Auror and Dumbledore might have found out.”

_Do you think Moody can see auras like Draco?_

“I don’t know… we must speak with Malfoy immediately about this,” Tom said. “After the feast, I need you to divert to the dungeons.”

 _Okay,_ Harry nodded. He continued to absent-mindedly listen to Dumbledore, his mind drifting off to other subjects, most of them including the Triwizard Tournament, and his wonderment about the other Wizarding Schools. _I did not even know there were other wizarding schools,_ he thought to himself. _Nobody ever talked about them._

When Dumbledore called for them to go to bed Harry stood with the rest of the Gryffindors and walked with Ron and Hermione. His eyes searched out for the rare head of platinum blonde in the sea of Slytherins. He found Malfoy walking near the back of the Slytherin crowd, talking with a dark skinned Slytherin whose name Harry forgot. He looked at his two friends and said, “You two go on, I just have to tie my shoe, alright?”

“Yeah, see ya in a bit,” Ron nodded. Harry moved towards the stone benches in the entrance hall and pretended to tie his shoe. He looked around his shoulder and waited for Draco to come out of the entrance hall. The Slytherins were one of the last to come out, the group moving in one solid form as they’ve turned towards the dungeons. Harry looked back at his shoe and continued to pretend as some Slytherins gave him weird looks.

Harry felt a shadow fall upon him and turned to see Draco standing in front of him, arms crossed. “Did you think that would actually worked?” he asked. “Serious Harry, pretending to tie your shoes? What are you five?”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “But I need to talk with you, and just so you know it did work. Got you here, didn’t I?” Harry smirked.

Draco just rolled his eyes and sat down. “So what do you want? Want me to tell you your aura hasn’t changed? Or is this something else?”

“A bit of both,” Harry admitted.

“Alright, let’s get this out of the way,” Draco said as he dramatically rolled his eyes. “Your aura is still the same. Mostly golden with a bit of green right near your scar. What else do you need Harry?”

“This one is about our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” Harry said. “Professor Moody… can he see auras?”

Draco’s face seemed to lift a little as he gave Harry a little smirk. “Now there’s an interesting request Harry. Is Professor Moody an Aura Reader like Dumbledore and I? No, I do not think so, although there is something very curious about him.”

“What is it Draco? And how can you be sure?” Harry asked.

“We can sense when we’re in the presence of an Aura Reader, Harry,” Draco said. “It’s like how you and I both knew that the other was also a poof. We don’t need to say it, we’re just really good at knowing what to look for. Now here is the interesting part. His aura is completely blank.”

“Blank? What do you mean?” Harry asked, confused.

“It’s blank, I can’t see anything,” Draco said. “It’s like if you or anyone else look at me, there’s no glow or color outlining my body. Just… air.”

“But how can that happen?” Harry asked.

“Well,” Draco began, “he _is_ an auror, and a bloody good one at that if what my father told me is true. It’s entirely possible that he could know of Aura Readers and practiced the rigorous training that’s required to hide your aura. But why do you ask? He’s no one you should be worried about, he’s a mad man.”

“I’m not, Tom is,” Harry slipped out, relizing his mistake far too late.

“Tom? Who is Tom?” Draco asked.

“I…I uhh…” Harry stuttered. _I’m sorry Tom! Please don’t be mad at me!_ He pleaded to Tom.

Tom remained quiet as Draco just stared at him. Harry fidgeted in place and dropped his head, giving a low sigh. “Well Harry? Who is Tom?” Draco asked again. “Are you keeping a secret from me?” he smirked.

Harry just nodded.

“Harry, come on. You know that’s rude don’t you? Besides, you’re awful at hiding secrets. Remember what happened last year?” Draco asked. He was referring to the episode that happened at the end of their third year. Draco visited Harry in the hospital wing, and the Gryffindor tried to lie in order to keep his friend from worrying. Draco, however, was far from convinced and pulled every detail out of a reluctant Harry.

“Of course I remember that,” Harry said. “But still… I just can’t tell you…”

“Who is Tom?” Draco repeated. “I don’t want to interrogate you Harry.”

Harry frowned and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry Tom,” he whispered as he opened up his robes. His hand shook slightly as he reached into an inner pocket. His fingers curled around the black diary, that seemed to warm in his hands as if approving of what he was doing. He pulled the diary out of his pocket and handed it to Draco, opening it. “This is Tom,” he said.

“A diary?” Draco asked, confused. He looked down at the diary and gave a loud gasp when words appeared.

_Hello Draco Malfoy, I am much more than a diary._

“What is this Harry?” Draco asked looking at his friend. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

“That is Tom… he’s my…” Harry’s cheeks flushed as he tried to vocalize his and Tom’s relationship. “He’s my ma…boy… he’s Tom.”

_Tell him the truth Harry._

“You can hear us from outside the dairy?” Harry gasped.

_Yes Harry, you have given me enough energy and life that I can effectively “hear” the voices around us. Although, it will still be beneficial for you to write in this, my sweet Harry._

Harry’s cheeks flushed as they read the words. “Harry,” Draco said, his cheeks flushed also, “what is going on?”

“Uhh… in short? You’re holding Voldemort’s diary. I’ve… I have a crush on him… more of a crush. His name is Tom Riddle, half of his soul is in the diary as the book is something called a Horcrux. … I’m helping Tom regain his body, his power… and I am his heir… his sweet Harry,” Harry’s entire face burned red as he admitted this.

Draco just stared at the diary, his mouth hung slightly. His silver eyes looked up at Harry. For the first time Harry found Draco stunned for words. They both just stood there, Draco trying to comprehend what Harry just told him, and Harry waiting anxiously for his friend’s response. He didn’t know how long they’ve stood there, but as the torches’ fire seemed to dim Draco finally gained the ability to speak as he looked down at the diary and said, “I’m sorry my lord for speaking crudely of you!”

“Draco?”

Draco moved the diary tenderly back into Harry’s hands and moved to kneel. “I’m sorry my lord,” he repeated.

As soon as the diary touched Harry’s fingertips, Tom’s voice returned to his head. “Tell Draco that all is well, and he has no reason to kneel.”

“Uhh Tom said that all is well… and you have no reason to kneel,” Harry repeated, embarrassed at the sight of Draco kneeling in front of him.

Draco stood and said, “Thank you my Lord… Harry.”

“Umm…”

“I am not mad at you Harry,” Tom’s voice whispered in his mind. “This was going to happen eventually. I am grateful, actually, that this happened sooner than later. We can use his help to regain my body.”

Harry nodded and looked at Draco. “Uhh Tom… I mean the Dark Lord… we want your help Draco. We’re trying to get Tom’s body back and… he… we think that you can help us with that.”

Draco’s eyes shone as he smiled at Harry. As if being proposed to be married or given the highest honor, Draco nodded and said, “Of course. Yes Harry, it would be my honor!”

“Fantastic,” Harry said. “Tom and I are happy to hear that.”

“How can you communicate with our Lord?” Draco asked.

Harry blushed. “I can always hear him when I have the diary close to me. … Back in second year we’ve made an agreement. It was the happiest day of my life looking back on it, having Tom inside me… us being connected… it’s just brilliant.”

Harry heard Tom chuckle and say “That is sweet Harry, but wait until I can finally touch you, my sweet boy.”

“Wow… that’s something,” Draco said. “I have to admit, I’m jealous.”

“Really? You are?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “Here you are, turning to the right side of this war and found what sounds like something great. And here I am…” Draco shook his head. “Never mind Harry, I’ll tell you about it another day.”

“Draco! You can’t do that to me,” Harry said with a mocking frown. “I thought you said that it’s rude to hide secrets.”

“It is,” Draco nodded, “but I am going to tell you, just not right now.”

“Then when?” Harry asked.

Draco gave Harry a coy look. “How about this,” he said. “You tell me the boy I’m too afraid to tell my feelings to, and I’ll reveal my secret. Deal?”

“What?” Harry asked, confused. “Fine, whatever…”

“Good,” Draco smirked. He took a step away from Harry, trying to hide his blush in the shadows, and said, “We should go to sleep Harry. It is getting late. Good night Harry… and good night my Lord.”

“Good night Draco,” Harry said. He watched his friend retreat into the dungeons then turned towards the Grand Staircase.

“Harry, there is something troublesome,” Tom said. “Draco is correct, you have a poor ability to lie. I cannot believe that I did not notice until tonight. It looks like that is another thing I will have to teach you, as well as something else.”

“What is it?” Harry asked aloud.

“Logic. I sense that you will need to be able to strategize and think out situations in the near future, they will be key for getting my body back. Our first lesson will be tonight, when you go to bed,” Tom said.

“Tonight? How?”

“Just go to sleep and all will be revealed, my sweet lion,” Tom whispered.

Harry just nodded and obeyed.

Warm, dressed in his pajamas, Harry took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand next to his bed. Ron was snoring in the bed next to him, his arms flung over his head as he snoozed. The rest of the boys were just getting into their beds as Harry closed the curtains around his bed (just as Tom told him as he laid down) and as soon as he rested his head on the pillow, he fell asleep.

 

Harry found himself in a white room. There were no windows nor door anyone on the wall. Instead the walls stood bare. In the center was a low, wide, square table and sitting in front of it, in a throne-like chair was Tom Riddle. He looked exactly as handsome as Harry remembered. Riddle was dressed in a suit, a dark green button down shirt, a leather-black tie with a perfect knot that rested squarely under his throat. Over that he wore a black suit jacket that perfectly framed his body. He stood to show his black trousers and neatly-shined shoes. “Harry,” he smiled. “Come here.”

Harry took a step and looked around. His eyes caught a mirror on the wall that suddenly appeared and gasped. He wasn’t wearing his pajamas anymore, instead he was also wearing clothing similar to Tom’s. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, instead he wore a similar dark green button down shirt with no tie, and tight black trousers. “Tom… what is this?” he asked as he fingered the clothing. He never saw anything like this before.

Riddle appeared behind him, and Harry gasped as Tom placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is a dream Harry, a dream that I am controlling,” Tom said. “In here, I can touch you, if only for a little while. This room, and everything in is, is under my control. Look into the mirror Harry.”

Harry turned towards the mirror and just gazed into it. Tom was standing behind him, his hand was still on his shoulder, and Harry had to admit that they both looked good together. Tom was more than a head taller than Harry, the Gryffindor’s head fitting squarely onto Tom’s chest as he leaned back. Tom’s hand moved from his shoulder down across his chest and rested there. “We will always be together Harry,” Tom said. “Remember that, my sweet heir.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Yeah, together,” he said. Still staring at the mirror, Riddle bent to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Come on Harry, it is time for your lesson.”

Harry nodded and followed Tom away from the mirror and towards the table. “We will use this,” Tom said, “To help you develop a mind for strategies, plans.” He gave his hand a wave over the table and much to Harry’s surprise, a miniature version of the Great Hall appeared. Five long, small tables occupied the square table: Four of them standing parallel to each other, the fifth standing perpendicular to them all. All five tables were filled with miniature people who seemed to be made out of wood.

 Harry examined the small inhabitants of the model and gasped, “It’s me!” he pointed to a very elaborate model. “And look, there’s Draco and…” he picked up a model and smiled at Tom. “It’s you,” he said shyly.

“Indeed, it is,” Tom said. “We will be using this model for our first lesson. In order for us to complete our goal, you need to be able to plan out multiple strategies, access each and every one, than pick the best course of action. It will be difficult at first, but I believe in you.”

“So… it’s a bit like planning moves for Quidditch?” Harry asked, looking at Tom. A smile appeared on his Riddle’s face and he laughed. “Sure Harry, I suppose you can make that comparison.”

“Alright,” Harry smiled, “So what do I have to do?”

“Simple,” Tom said. He took out Harry’s wand and tapped several models. “Draco has valuable information for me,” he began, tapping Draco’s and his own models which became highlighted in green. “However, he is unable to deliver it because he is under constant watch.” Tom tapped a few models which turned red. “These work for Dumbledore”—he tapped Dumbledore’s model—“who will immediately defeat all of us if caught. Now your task is this: Get the information from Draco and deliver it to me.”

“Just that?” Harry asked.

“Just that,” Tom nodded. “But do not rush to act Harry, this is more complicated then it seems.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He looked down at the table as Tom returned to his throne and sat down, a leg crossed over the other.

It looked simple to Harry, easy even; all he had to do was just move his model to Draco than to Tom. Harry’s model was sitting in the middle of the Gryffindor Table, Draco’s was near the front of the table under the watchful eyes of a miniature Severus Snape, and Tom’s wait sitting patiently in the back. Scattered around the model were several students who glowed red, as well as the entire staff who glowed red as well. Harry thought that the best way was to just go directly to Draco and get the information himself. He found to his amazement that his miniature model moved with his thoughts. He had the miniature Harry stand up from the table wordlessly and move down the length of the table towards the back of the room. Nobody paid his model any attention as it looked like it was just leaving the Great Hall. But he didn’t. Instead it just continued walking across the back of the room until it reached the Slytherin table. As soon as the model past Tom’s, Dumbledore’s model stood up and glowed an angry red. Dumbledore’s voice seemed to boom from it as he said, “Harry Potter! What are you doing?”

Dumbledore’s model pointed a miniature wand at Harry’s model and it flew off of the table. Still sitting, Tom flicked Harry’s wand and Harry made a sound as one of the buttons on his shirt flew off, revealing his naked neck. “Six more tries Harry,” Tom smirked. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Harry frowned but nodded. He bent down to pick up his model and placed him back at the Gryffindor table. Next, he thought of simply using the Invisibility Cloak. He smiled to himself as he again had his model stand and made its way to the entrance of the miniature Great Hall. Once outside, Harry had the model put the Invisibility Cloak on and again enter the Hall. It made its way towards the Slytherin Table and this time only made it halfway up the table before Dumbledore’s model stood up and boomed again, “Harry Potter! What are you doing?”

Again Harry’s model was pushed off of the table, and the next button on his shirt flew off, revealing more skin. “Five Harry. Come on, think,” Tom said. “Use your resources.”

Again Harry returned his figure and stared at the model. How was he supposed to get to Draco and Tom if Dumbledore always spots him? He groaned as he stared at the model. What was he missing!? He had his model stand up again, put on the Invisibility Cloak, and just stood at the entrance. Now what? If he goes straight for the Slytherin table Dumbledore will catch him. Harry frowned as he just had his figure stand there motionless, invisible. Dumbledore’s model turned from Professor McGonagall’s model and towards the food in front of it. It stopped, looked up, and again turned red. “Harry Potter! What are you doing?”

“Four,” Tom smirked as another button went flying. Harry’s shirt opened, revealing his chest. “Almost half are lost Harry, concentrate.”

Harry growled in frustration and slammed his model back in his seat. His eyes slanted as he glared at the model in front of him. What is he doing wrong!? He looked at the red students, watched as they’ve talked with each other, and the students around him. He looked at Draco who had a red student staring straight him. He looked back at the Gryffindor table and moved his lips as he watched the models interact with each other. He looked down the line and saw a model of Fred and George Weasley playing around with some pranks. An idea started to form in his head and his model made its way towards the twin models. The miniature Harry whispered something to the twins, and before he knew it the twins jumped up and soon everyone’s attention was on them as they fooled around. The twins’ model shook their wands around and hundreds of fake doves and owls flew around the model. Harry took this chance to have its model slip the Invisibility Cloak on and make its way to the Slytherin table. But as soon as Harry made it next to Draco, Dumbledore’s voice once again boomed. “Harry Potter! What are you doing?”

“Three, as much as I love seeing your skin my pet, I wish it was under better circumstances,” Tom said as another button flicked off. “Though, if you want a hint… I’ll give it to you. You were on the correct track using the twins, and it seems Dumbledore can only spot you once you’ve past my model.”

Harry nodded and frowned. Once again he looked at the model and tried his best to study it. Draco’s model still had the one red students staring straight at him; Tom’s was still sitting by itself at the end of the table; the Weasley twins’ were experimenting with small pranks; and Harry’s was sitting in his seat, having the same frustrated look as Harry does. _How the hell am I going to do this?_ He thought to himself as he leaned against the table. His eyes shifted towards Tom, who was still sitting in his throne, leg over the other. He held Harry’s wand by his fingertips of both hands and twirled it absentmindedly, watching him. It was obvious to Harry that Tom was out of hints to give. He looked back at model and frowned. There was nothing he could do, it was impossible for Harry’s model to get to Draco’s then back to Tom’s. Not in the limited amount of time Fred and George’s models allowed with their distraction.

Harry stared at Draco’s model. It was sitting peacefully, its head moving slightly as if it was talking to the other models around him. Though, something seemed odd to Harry. It looked as if something very small was poking out of it, out of one of the pockets. Harry leaned as close as he could towards the model, and saw that the small thing poking out was a folded letter. _That must be the information Tom wants,_ Harry thought. _Draco already has it written down. But how to get it?_

Still hovering centimeters about the model, Harry turned to look at his own. Up close Harry saw more details that he missed the first time. For example, the model next to him looked like Hermione, and she was writing something with a quill and paper. Harry stared at Hermione’s model for thirty seconds before an idea struck.

His model said something to Hermione’s and she gave him the paper and quill. Harry’s model wrote a message on the paper and tapped it with its wand. The message transfigured into a paper dove and Harry had his model take the dove towards the twins. The model whispered something and the twins stood up and again the doves and owls appeared. Harry’s model threw its paper dove into the sky and watched as it quickly made a beeline towards Draco’s model. With the entire Hall watching the doves and owls doing tricks, Professor McGonagall’s and Professor Flitwick’s models chuckling briefly from the amusement, Draco’s model unfolded the message, read it, and quickly did the same with his letter. The letter flew up into the air and joined the doves and owls. As soon as it reached Harry’s model, however, the staff decided that they’ve had enough of a ruckus and charmed the birds away. Harry’s model slipped on the Invisibility Cloak and made its way towards Tom’s. “Harry Potter! What are you doing?”

“Two. You know, it is such a shame, my sweet. You’ve almost had it,” Tom said. “At least your failures will give me a preview of what will be mine.”

Harry growled out in frustration and again placed his model into his seat. He was so close! He had the instructions and everything! If only the distraction was longer!

“Dark Lords are not messengers Harry,” Tom said. “Remember that.”

Tom’s words have set off a small epiphany in Harry’s mind. Concentration on his plan, he started the simulation again. His model asked Hermione’s for the paper and quill she was writing on. He had his model write a different message and again transfigured it into a paper dove. Once again he had his model go to the twins, and again the doves and owls took flight, amazing everyone with their tricks. The paper dove joined their dance and made its way towards the Slytherin table. Draco’s model again read the instructions, took out the letter, and turned it into a dove as well. It took flight, but it instead took a different path. Instead of going towards the Gryffindor table, where Harry had his model return to his seat, it flew high into the room, flying down the length of the table, lost in the sea of birds, before landing safely in front of Tom’s model. Tom’s model opened the letter and as it read it the doves and owls disappeared, and the meal continued as normal.

Clapping penetrated the silence and Harry turned to see Tom smiling and clapping at him. “Well done Harry, well done. I think you deserve a reward. Come here.” Tom patted his lap and Harry wasted no time getting over to him and sitting on it. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and turned the smaller boy sideways so that his legs hung over the arm of the throne. “This is a better position, my pet,” Tom whispered. Their lips touched and Harry melted himself in the kiss, smiling as his eyes closed.

“That’s it Harry, enjoy your reward. You’ve earned it,” Tom whispered. “You’ve done satisfactory tonight. Next time though, I want you to strive to getting it correct in your first three tries. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. They both smiled lazily at each other and Harry rested his head on Tom’s chest. “I can’t wait until we can do this in real life,” he said. “You… holding me.”

“When I have my body, I will show you so many wonderful things Harry. I have many things to teach you my sweet. When I have my body back, I’ll teach you to become my lover. Would you like that Harry?” Tom breathed in Harry’s ear. “Do you want me to teach you how to feel _pleasure_?”

“Yeah,” Harry moaned, feeling something strange happening in his body. Tom smiled and kissed Harry’s cheek. “Then let us work together Harry. Together, along with Draco Malfoy, I am sure we can restore me to my proper power quickly.”

Harry nodded and looked up at Tom. “I don’t want to wake up,” he admitted. Tom chuckled and said, “I control everything in this room Harry. Everything. Time is no concern of ours. You will only wake up when I want you to.”

Harry felt relieved hearing that and buried his head deeper into Tom’s chest. “Then can we stay like this? For a while?”

“Of course Harry. I would do anything for my precious heir, my lovely pet.”

 

Harry’s classes were mostly boring. They were quite tame and fell flat compared the hype the twins built for Moody’s class. Harry desperately wanted the days to fly towards Thursday so he could have his first class. The days didn’t seem to want to comply to Harry’s wish, dragging on ever so slowly with other lessons. He and Draco haven’t had any time to meet up aside from their encounter after the feast, and Harry felt like he was no closer to figuring out whom Draco had a crush on. And honestly, while it was a minor detail, Harry kept obsessing over it. He just _needed_ to know! He didn’t know why he was obsessing over it; maybe it was the fact that Draco could hide something from him while he couldn’t. Whatever the reason, Harry found himself drifting in classes, his eyes just roaming from boy to boy, trying to figure out who exactly Draco liked.

Before he knew it, it was Thursday and Harry was walking with Ron and Hermione towards their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Moody. The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody’s first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. Tom was anxious for the lesson to begin as well, though for completely different reasons.

The three hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher’s desk, took out their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ , and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

“What could he be planning, I wonder,” Tom mused in Harry’s mind.

 _I don’t know,_ Harry thought.

After he gave roll call, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. “So—straight to it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Dumbledore’s got a high opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against the better. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown when I’m talking!”

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her horoscope that Trelawney assigned for Divination.

Harry heard Tom made a noise and said, “Interesting… Harry pay attention closely. If he is thinking of demonstration the curses I am thinking of, then it would be good for you to watch.”

 _You are going to teach me these?_ Harry asked quickly.

“Yes, now watch.”

Ron’s hand shot up next to Harry with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “My dad told me one, it’s called the Imperius Curse,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” Moody said appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time…”

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. Harry felt Ron recoil slightly next to him.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that they could all see it. Then he pointed his wand at it and muttered, “ _Imperio!_ ”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and began to dance.

Everyone was laughing—everyone except Moody.

“Think it’s funny do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control,” Moody said quietly as the spider baled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…”

Tom’s voice chuckled in Harry’s head. “I remember I’ve just begun practicing what this spell could do for me. There was a Gryffindor who wouldn’t leave me alone, always hounding me, always wondering what evil thing I was doing. It was more of an annoyance than anything. So one night I’ve led her deep into the dungeons, oh she thought that she was finally going to catch me red-handed. Instead I’ve used that spell and learned of all her dirty little secrets.” Tom chuckled darkly again. “There are secrets that even we don’t know we’re holding, this spell is an important tool to pull those secrets out.”

Harry just nodded and gave a small, subtle smile. He turned his attention back to Moody as the professor said, “Better to avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the first spider and placed it back in the jar. “Anyone else know another? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry’s surprise, did Neville’s. “There’s one—the Cruciatus Curse,” Neville said in a slow but distinct voice.

“Your name’s Longbottom?” Moody said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again. Neville nodded nervously but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus Curse,” Moody said. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at it. “ _Engorgio!_ ” The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, far away from Moody’s desk as possible.

“Crucio!” Moody muttered. At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon it’s body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it but Harry was sure that if it could, it would be screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently.

“Watch Harry. This is necessary,” Tom commanded. Harry winced but continued to watch. If he was being true to himself, he couldn’t look away for some reason. Hermione, however, called for Moody to stopped and whatever spell that was holding Harry’s fascination broke and he turned to see Neville. His hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, knuckles white, and his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody stopped and stepped towards Hermione. “Perhaps, Miss Granger would like to give us the last Unforgivable Curse,” he said.

Hermione was breathing deeply, as horrified as Neville was as her eyes kept on the spider on the desk. “The Killing Curse,” she whispered.

“Yes… yes that’s the one,” Moody muttered. Moody turned, raised his wand, and Harry felt a sudden thrill of foreboding. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” he roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air—instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead.

“Not nice,” Moody said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.”

Harry felt his face redden as Moody’s eyes (both of them) looked into his own. He could feel everyone else looking around at him too. Harry stared at the blackboard as though fascinated by it, but no really seeing it at all. …

“Yes, that is how your parents died,” Tom said. “The cowardly Wormtail betrayed your parents to Lord Voldemort for unknown reasons and so I, my future self, came and murdered Lily and James Potter, and tried to murder you. I am still trying to figure how I’ve fell into a depravity that drove to kill a babe.”

 _I’m not blaming you Tom_ , Harry thought. _But_ _this spell… can we save this for last?_

“Of course, my sweet heir,” Tom chuckled.

Feeling slightly relieved by that information, Harry turned his attention back to the class as Moody continued talking. The class spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on the Unforgivable Curses, Tom whispering in Harry’s head every now and then to give corrections, improvements from Moody’s notes. Nobody spoke until the bell rang.

As Harry walked out with Ron and Hermione, he was too busy talking with Tom. _I’m supposed to learn those spells,_ he said.

“Yes but all in good time. We do not need to jump into you performing the Unforgivable Curses. That would only bring trouble,” Tom said. “Only fools and idiots practice the Unforgivable Curses first.”

_So what other spells are there?_

“Many. But more about that later. … I think Granger is saying something to you,” Tom said.

Harry turned to Hermione, who seemed to be waiting for an answer from him. “What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s just that didn’t Ron seem a little… weird in Moody’s lesson?” Hermione asked. “He seemed odd.”

“How?” Harry asked, looking at Ron who was talking with Seamus and Dean about Moody’s lesson.

“He just seemed… eager… it’s just weird,” Hermione said.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about Hermione, he just said one Unforgivable Curse didn’t he?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, he did, but still… never mind, I’m thinking too much into this,” Hermione said.

“I think you were just thinking too much into nothing,” Harry said.

“Right.”

“Some lesson eh?” Ron said to Harry as they’ve sat down in the Great Hall. “Fred and George were right, weren’t they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn’t he? When he did _Avada_ _Kedavra_ , the way the spider just _died_ , just snuffled it right up…” Harry looked at his friend and frowned. He seemed thrilled by the lesson, much more thrilled than anyone else it seemed.

“Fools and idiots Harry,” Tom whispered. Harry just stared at his best friend and wondered, even if there is a tiny bit, perhaps there was a bit of green in his golden aura. He looked towards the Slytherin Table and watched Draco eat. He needs to talk with him immediately. He heard Tom’s chuckling in his mind.

 _Why are you laughing?_ Harry asked.

“Because my sweet, don’t you remember your lesson?” Tom asked.

 _Oh, right,_ Harry thought. He looked around and saw that Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, conversing with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape as the three ate dinner. Ron was next to him working on his horoscope for Divination, so Harry bent to his bag and pulled out a piece of paper and quill. Looking at Draco, he dipped his quill in ink and quickly wrote: _I need to know, what is Ron’s aura? Write it down on this paper, you’ll know how._

He took out his wand, tapped it and watched as the paper folded itself into a paper crane. He pocketed the crane and stood up.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Harry said, excusing himself like he was going to the bathroom.

“Alright,” Ron said.

Harry walked his way towards the twins, who looked like they were playing with some pranks they made. Harry couldn’t help but smirk at himself. It was all working too perfectly. “Hiya Harry!” Fred said.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” Harry asked, sitting in the space between the twins that they’ve made for him.

“We got some new pranks and stuff that we’re showing Lee here,” George said.

“Cool,” Harry said, glancing at the objects laid out in front of them. “Hey listen, I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Fred asked. Harry pulled out the paper crane and said, “How about you guys let out hundreds of fake birds and owls in here right now? Cause a huge distraction and put on a show.”

“Ohh it seems Harry has a letter he wants no one to see,” George smirked. “I think we should help this poor youth in love, don’t we Fred?”

“I think we do George. Now we can put all these scrolls to good use,” Fred said. “And you are lucky, these boxes we’re experimenting with has hundreds of paper planes that fly about.”

“It’s not paper birds, but it’ll do the trick,” George said, he handed a small box about the size of an apple towards Lee Jordan and said, “Ready Lee? Open!”

The twins and their friend opened their boxes and immediately hundreds of paper planes flew out in a rainbow of colors. The Great Hall’s inhabitants gave a loud cry of shock as the planes flew into the air and began to perform, coordinating by colors and doing dives, loop-the-loops, rolls, and many more. Harry tapped his wand to the paper crane, letting Tom tell him what spell to perform and he watched as his crane flew into the air with the paper planes.

Harry smiled and thanked the twins, who gave him a lewd smile and thumbs up. Harry returned to his seat and nodded as Ron pointed out what he missed. Harry turned his head towards the paper planes and watched as one by one, the professors started damage control. Every time a spell hit the paper planes, however, it exploded like a firework. Harry quickly turned his eyes towards Draco, who thankfully gotten the note. He watched as the platinum blonde read the note, frowned, then stared at Harry and Ron. He wrote on the paper crane and soon it was flying in the air again, avoiding the paper planes and their explosions before resting neatly on Harry’s hand.

“Good job Harry,” Tom chuckled.

Harry smiled and gave a soft laugh. _Are you psychic or something? Did you know this was going to happen?_ He asked.

“No my pet, We are just simply lucky that the need and opportunity came to us. Not everything strategy we practice will become reality,” Tom said. “Now, read the note.”

Harry opened the crane and flipped it over, seeing Draco’s neat cursive writing.

_How did you figure it out Harry? Yes. Ron’s aura has green in it. And, while it might surprise you, his green portion is bigger than yours. It’s just that he’s somehow hiding it low to his body. And yes, Ron is the one I’m afraid to tell._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Harry’s shirt was mostly opened, his sun-kissed skin revealed to Tom’s hungry eyes, his dark nipples peaking from the edges of the dark green shirt. In front of him was another situation, just like the his first lesson with Tom. Tom just sat in his chair, a look of amusement on his handsome face as he twirled Harry’s wand in his hands. “You have one more try, Harry,” he said. “I have far more planned to do tonight than this exercise. Do it again.”

Harry sighed and stared at the situation in front of him. It was not the Great Hall like last time, but instead he was dealing with two small armies. His goal was simple: kill the opposing army’s leader (who looked like Dumbledore) without losing any of his soldiers, or even having his killer noticed at all. So far he had tried anything he could think of: an archer trying to kill the leader from far away, sending in a solder under the cover of darkness, using a group of soldiers act as a distraction as another circle around to kill the leader, trying a one-on-one duel between his strongest soldier and the leader as another one tried to kill the leader from a distance. …Anything he could think of he tried, and they all failed. He was quickly growing frustrated with this, and it was affecting his performance.

“You can have them do anything pet, remember that,” Tom said. “Now… take a deep breath in… good, hold it… … now slowly release it.” Harry did as he was instructed and found himself slightly more at ease. “A calm commander can find the solution that a stressed commander misses,” Tom said. “Now, keep breathing until you are calm.”

Harry continued to breathe deeply, every breath carrying a tiny piece of his stress, his frustration, our of his body. When he was fully calm he looked at Tom, giving him a small smile and said, “Thank you,” before looking back at the small table in front of him.

The table was divided by two sides, near Harry was a small castle in which his soldiers waited for his orders. A path connecting his castle to the enemies’ went through the middle of the table, surrounded by hills. The enemy forces patrolled the hills regularly, moving in a pattern that Harry quickly memorized. Even though it was a dream, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little thirsty. He looked at Tom and said, “Tom… I’m thirsty… can I?”

Tom chuckled and nodded, “There is a glass behind you pet.”

Harry turned to see a glass of pumpkin juice already prepared for him, and he had an idea. Turning to Tom he said, “My units can do anything you said? Then how about they try to make a truce?”

“A truce?” Tom asked, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

“Yeah, a truce, so that Dumbledore—I mean the enemy leader will be in my castle. There under my control, I can have my soldiers pretend to serve a meal and give him a poisoned goblet. When they all raise their glasses to honor this truce, the enemy leader will drink from the goblet and die from the poison,” Harry said. “That way none of my soldiers would die, and he would not know which one has poisoned his cup.”

Harry smiled as he waited for Tom’s response. The sixteen year old just smiled at Harry and waved his hand, “Play it out,” he simply said. So Harry did.

He sent a single soldier with a message down the road and towards the enemy castle, carrying a white flag. The enemy patrollers stopped him, they talked, and soon the two patrollers started to escort his messenger the rest of the way to the other castle. In the mean time, Harry had his other soldiers to prepare a meal and separate drinks. His assassin prepared the enemy leader’s goblet, dropping a lethal potion into the cup as his messenger and the enemy leader walked out of the castle. The two made their way across the path, past the patrolling soldiers, and into his territory. Harry couldn’t help but smirk as he watched his plan unfold. His assassin finished making the finishing touches on the enemy leader’s goblet just as they entered the castle. Harry watched as a model of himself and Tom greeted the enemy leader and invited him to the banquet hall. His and Tom’s models sat close together and the enemy was seated in the guest of honor’s chair. The soldiers served the food, the assassin handing the goblet to a waiter who walked directly to the enemy leader to hand it to him. He took it gladly and waited for Tom’s model to stand. Harry’s stood also and looked at Tom’s model as it seemed to be making a speech. After the speech they all drank and Harry smiled in victory as the enemy-leader who looked like Dumbledore immediately started choking and fell over the table, dead.

“I did it!” Harry shouted to Tom, who merely smiled.

“Good,” he said softly. “And now for the next lesson.” Tom waved Harry’s hand and the buttons that flew from Harry’s shirt returned, the shirt sewing itself back together, buttoning and hiding Harry’s skin from Tom’s view. Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed at that. “Now Harry, we are going to begin with the first spell,” Tom said.

“Is it an Unforgivable Curse?” Harry asked.

“No, far from that,” Tom said. “You are far too innocent to even think of casting one, my sweet Harry. Though the fact that you instantly go to those spells is slightly disturbing. Harry, tell me, what are the Dark Arts?”

“Magic that does… dark stuff, you know, like harm people, control them… kill them. Bad stuff like that, yeah?” Harry asked.

Tom just smirked and shook his head. “No Harry, that is only a small fracture of what the Dark Arts can do. Remember my heir, our auras are a brilliant green like a shining emerald on a cloudless day. Why would such a beautiful color occur for something so terrible? The Dark Arts are more than that Harry, much more. There are harmful spells, yes, spells that kill or harm or maim, spells that forces the victim into insanity, spells that can do unimaginable horrible things: these spells Harry, are the Dark Arts. But there are also spells found useful but are never used for reasons. For example in Bulgaria where the Dark Arts is taught, there is a spell that can give a male a womb. The Bulgarians only believe in the strong, true Bulgarians if I can be specific; strength is the leading attractive value, not gender or looks. The weak look for the strong, and the strong protect the weak. It is only natural that a spell is developed to reflect that mindset.

“To give it a definition, the Dark Arts are a collection of spells and potions that are deemed illegal for many reasons. Here in England, it is mainly due to the prejudices of the Ministry of Magic. But we’ll go into detail about that on a later date. Dark Magic is separated into three groups: Jinxes, Hexes, and Curses. Now, in Hogwarts you learn Jinxes and few hexes, just to show how hypocritical both the Ministry and headmasters can be. I want you to start with jinxes, just to show me your mastery of them, and then we will move onto the more dangerous spells. Do you understand, Harry?”

“Yes, Tom,” Harry said.

“Good,” Tom smiled. “Now, let’s do a simple one: the Revulsion Jinx. It is a simple jinx that pushes the target to let go of whatever it is they are holding, also it forces the target away from the caster. The incantation is _Relashio_. Repeat it Harry, _Relashio_.”

“ _Relashio_ ,” Harry said.

“Good. Again.”

“ _Relashio_.”

Tom nodded. “Good, now there is no fancy wand work with this spell, you simple point at the target and cast the spell. Now…” Tom stepped towards Harry and gave him his wand. “Use the spell,” he whispered, “to push me away. Imagine I am someone undesirable, someone wishing to harm, and use all your strength to push me.”

Harry looked up at Tom and blushed. Trying his best to think him repulsive, a disgusting image appeared. It wasn’t human. It looked like a small, wrinkled baby with shriveled arms, an alien looking head with red eyes, no nose and bald. The creature seemed to notice Harry’s presence and spoke in a high, strained voice. His stomach flipped in disgust, his wand jabbed at Tom’s navel and he yelled “ _Relashio!_ ”

Tom flew away from Harry, almost knocking into the table behind him. He looked at Harry and frowned. “Interesting,” he said.

“What was that?” Harry gasped.

“That… was me… at least that is what I believe to be Lord Voldemort,” Tom said.

“He didn’t even look remotely human,” Harry said, a cold sweat appearing on his forehead. “and the way it looked at me… Tom, that thing can’t be you!”

Tom frowned at Harry. “I have already told you Harry, the Dark Lord and I are the same person. Though our methods seemed to have changed slightly. To be reduced to that disgusting body… it’s an insult to my power.” He shook his head and sighed. “We’ll think about this another time Harry, for now let’s continue practicing the spell.”

Harry and Tom continued to practice the spell for the next hour, the horrific image edging away from their concerns. At the end of the hour, Tom congratulated Harry on a job well done and permitted his innocent heir to a restful, dreamless sleep.

 

Harry soon fell into a habit in the next few weeks. During the day he went to his classes, hang out with Ron and Hermione, and acted like a normal Gryffindor. At night he went to bed excited as he once again finds himself in the white room, wearing the dark green button down shirt and tight black trousers that hugged his body just right, where he learned from Tom. There in that room Harry and Tom went over situations, each time Tom sending a button flying off of Harry’s shirt, revealing his skin slowly with each failure. Harry had yet to learn what would happen if all the buttons were severed off, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to learn the consequences. After each situation, Harry continued learning Jinxes; the vision of the present Voldemort returning only once or twice.

His classes seemed to getting more difficult. Harry first started to notice in Defense Against the Dark Arts where Professor Moody announced that he would put each and every one of them under the Imperius Curse so they could learn to fight it off. It was funny to Harry as he watched one by one, his fellow students doing extraordinary things under the spells’ influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem/ Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. None of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody removed it.

“Potter,” Moody growled, “you next.”

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry and said, “ _Imperio!_ ”

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him. The diary, which was as always hidden in his robe pocket, seemed to press onto him as Tom’s voice chuckled.

“Honestly Harry, must we add this to your lessons?” Tom asked. “Though, it is good that you feel the marvelous freedom the Imperio Curse gives someone; but remember Harry who it is you listen to.”

Mad-Eye Moody’s voice echoed in some distant chamber of his empty brain: _Jump onto the desk …jump onto the desk. …_

Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.

_Jump onto the desk…_

“Harry, stop,” Tom ordered. “This order is completely foolish.”

Why jump? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain. Listen to Tom.

_Jump onto the desk._

“Harry,” Tom warned.

No, the voice said more firmly. I don’t think I will.

_Jump! NOW!_

The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping—the result was that he’d smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps. He scrambled to make sure Tom’s diary was safe and secure as he stood up.

“Now, that’s more like it!” Moody growled and suddenly Harry felt the empty feeling in his head disappear, replaced by his thoughts and Tom’s presence. “Look at that, you lot …Potter fought it! He fought it, and he damn near bet it! We’ll try again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention—watch his eyes, that’s where you see it—very good, Potter, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling _you!_ ”

Tom’s voice chuckled darkly in Harry’s mind, “That is only because only I am allowed to control you, my sweet pet.”

 _Yeah,_ Harry agreed before going under the Imperius Curse again.

Again Harry found Ron all too excited about the Unforgivable Curses as they exited the class, the redhead skipping on every alternate step. “That was a very interesting class, wasn’t it?” Ron asked. “The way he had control over everyone… it was scary. He really knows his stuff huh? And just the feeling being under the spell…” Ron looked towards the ceiling wistfully. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his friend’s obviousness.

 _If Draco really likes Ron, then maybe he should teach him something about subtly,_ he thought to Tom.

“Yeah,” Harry said aloud, “it is a strange feeling… though, I have to say that the way he talks, it’s like he’s expecting us to be attacked any second.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said. “He’s a paranoid one, that one.” They turned a corner to see Malfoy walking further down. Harry turned to Ron to see that the redhead tried his best to avoid looking at Draco, a tiny hint of a blush hiding in his cheeks.

Harry smirked at that. _Draco will be happy to know this,_ he thought. He debated if he should tease Ron about, but decided against it, instead figuring to take a back seat and watch the budding events. When they came to the entrance hall, there was a large crowd standing in front of a huge notice board. Harry and Ron pushed through the crowd and read the announcement:

**TWIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY. STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

“Only a week away!” Harry grinned. “Wonder what they’ll be like. I’ve never knew that there were other schools.”

“There’s a few schools out of England,” Ron said. “Though they don’t really talk with each other.”

“Really? I wonder why that is,” Harry mused.

Tom answered Harry’s questions. “Politics and different views of magic mostly,” he said. Harry nodded at Tom’s answer and followed Ron into the Great hall, both boys excited and impatient for the 30th of October to come.

Hogwarts seemed to undergo an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first year girls into hysterics.

The other staff members seemed to act tensely as well, wanting to show their guests the best that Hogwarts can offer. The only relief that Harry had in the day was when he fell asleep and spent time with Tom.

The day before the thirtieth Harry ran into Draco alone in a corridor and the two friends smiled. “Finally Potter, you’re a hard boy to get by yourself,” Draco smirked.

“Technically, I’m never by myself,” Harry said, his hand lightly petting Riddle’s diary. Draco nodded and asked, “How is our Lord?”

“Tom is good,” Harry smiled. “I think he might be planning something… but he refuses to share it with me.”

“I am sure he will,” Draco said, looking at Harry’s scar weirdly. “Your aura… it changed Harry. The green around your scar… it’s growing. It’s moving downward, reaching your ear now. … I have to say Harry, you look pretty with it.”

“Thanks,” Harry blushed, looking down at his feet. “Anyway… I think you would like to know something,” he looked up at Draco with a smirk.

“Oh? And what is it, Harry?” Draco asked, crossing his arms.

Harry mimicked Draco and took a step back. “Well,” he said, trying to imitate his friend’s tone, “I have some certain information about a certain redhead…”

“Really?” Draco said, his eyes growing a tad bigger before he composed himself again. “W-What is it?”

“Well,” Harry said. “When he saw you, there may or may not be a blush on his cheeks…” Harry smiled at his friend.

“He did?” Draco said, sounding hopefully. “Thank you Harry… this is good to hear.” They both shared a smirk and looked around, making sure that they won’t be interrupted.

“So,” Harry said, “tomorrow the other schools are coming for the tournament. Do you know what they’re like? Tom told me a bit about Bulgarian wizards already.”

“Well, let’s see,” Draco mused, leaning on the wall. “What do you know about the Bulgarian wizards?”

“They practice the Dark Arts,” Harry said. “And that the Dark Arts is much more than the Unforgivable Curses, like that spell that can cause guys to get pregnant! Bulgaria values strength over all things; the weak are attracted to the strong, and the strong looks after the weak.”

Draco nodded and said, “That is how most wizards around that area behave. The Durmstrang Institute is located in the northernmost section of Scandinavia and has a completely different opinion of magic than Hogwarts or our Ministry of Magic. They emphasize the Dark Arts there, honestly Harry knowing who you are now I think we both would do far better going to Durmstrang, but that is unfortunately impossible. They only accept students from Scandinavian countries, Bulgaria rarely. Anyway while I do not know the Institute personally, I believe I can say that as far as the Dark Arts go, they are the best. Their students learn the Dark Arts at an early age, learn their affects, their dangers, and their benefits. Truly a superior school to Hogwarts in that regard.”

Harry nodded, “Maybe it would be easier if we went to Durmstrang… but I still like Hogwarts better, you know? I have Tom here… and you, and Ron! Besides, if we did go to Durmstrang, I honestly don’t think I would have encountered Tom.” Harry pulled the old dairy out and smiled faintly at it.

Draco just nodded, muttering an agreement. Harry pocketed the diary and looked at Draco, “So what do you know about the other school?”

“Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,” Draco said. “Mother wanted me to go there, as if I would be caught dead there. They are similar to Hogwarts but only fruitier. The focus on Light Magic is much more emphasized there than here; they are much more ‘in tuned with nature’ than Hogwarts. Everything there must be beautiful, and if not well… you are a shame.”

“So they’re like the opposite of Durmstrang, yeah?” Harry asked. “Durmstrang values power while Beauxbatons values beauty?”

“To put it that simply, yes,” Draco nodded.

“Do you think…” Harry said hesitantly, “that they might be Aura Readers? The people coming from those two schools?”

“There is always a possibility Harry,” Draco said, “But remember that it is a very rare gift. Don’t forget that in this entire castle there are only two Readers: Me and Dumbledore.”

“That’s true,” Harry nodded. “I just don’t want anyone to tip off Dumbledore or any of the staff.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Draco said, pushing off of the wall. “Follow me Harry,” he started to walk down the deserted corridor, the Gryffindor following. “Can our Lord hear me?” he asked.

“Yes, he can,” Harry said.

“Good,” Draco whispered. “Now Durmstrang’s headmaster is a man named Igor Karkaroff. He is a traitor. He was a Death Eater who turned on several of his comrades for his own safety.”

Harry could feel Tom’s irritation inside him. “What type of Dark Lord did I become?” Tom asked, “To allow a traitor like that to live?”

 _It must have been after… you know… that night_ Harry thought.

“Yes, I still need to figure out why I went after you as a babe, Harry,” Tom mused. “I wonder… if it might be possible for my soul to contact the monstrous husk that is Voldemort.”

 _Maybe… but Tom, I don’t want to see that thing again… ever,_ Harry frowned.

“I am sorry my sweet, but there are answers that we must know, and only that husk holds them,” Tom whispered. “Do not worry; we will not even dare to do it until I have you in my arms.”

Harry cheeks blushed and he nodded.

“Uhh Harry?” Draco said confused.

“Sorry,” Harry blushed. “Tom… we were discussing something.”

“Alright,” Draco nodded. “But seriously Harry, promise me that you will be careful with Karkaroff around. Though he was a Death Eater and is very knowledgeable with the Dark Arts, it scares him. He is a coward above all and will run to Dumbledore, or at least run away, at the sign of our Lord.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful Draco, I promise,” Harry said.

“Good,” Draco sighed, sounding utterly relieved. He gave his friend a smile and said, “Now we can move onto more important matters. Ron, my big redhead likes me huh?” Draco smirked.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Harry said. Draco’s smirk widened and he leered at Harry. “If you weren’t the Dark Lord’s I would kiss you now Harry,” he sighed. “I think I should begin preparations.”

“Preparations?” Harry asked. “For what?”

“Now that I know Ron is gay and he is attractive to me, I need to prepare. I want to see his golden aura become corrupted by beautiful emeralds. There is so much I can show him, just as our Lord is showing you Harry,” Draco said. “I need to prepare to show Ron the greatness that we both… we all know.”

“Oh, alright…” Harry said. “Uhh good luck with that yeah? I’ll see you later?”

“Of course Harry, so sorry to cut our meeting short,” Draco nodded. “Good bye Harry. Good bye, my Lord.” Draco turned and left the corridor, disappearing around the corner. Harry sighed and leaned onto the wall.

“I wish I could meet up with him more regularly,” he admitted to the air around him. “I hate meeting in secret.”

Tom remained quiet, his thoughts brewing in his diary as he focused on saving his building strength.

The next day Hogwarts was in an excited buzz over their coming guests. None of the students could focus on their lessons, everyone glancing every now and then at a clock only to watch the hour hand move agonizingly slow towards six o’clock. At a half hour to all of Hogwarts were stationed at the front of the castle, eyes wondering all around as students whispered and theorized how exactly the guest will arrive. They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Harry started to feel cold, he pulled his robes to him and smiled as the heat from the diary warmed him. He did not know how it happened, but ever since this morning Tom’s diary was warm. He tried asking Tom, but his crush was oddly silent.

Dumbledore’s voice broke the silence and everyone looked up to see the delegation from Beauxbatons approaching. It was a gigantic, powder-blue horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The Hogwarts students all backed up as the winged horses landed, the carriage following. The doors opened and a small boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage—a shoe the size of a child’s sled—followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life. A few people gasped.

“Giant,” Ron whispered in Harry’s ear. “Harry! That’s a giant! Blimey she’s bigger than Hagrid!”

Harry nodded as the giant woman stood her full height. Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe to look at the woman. Dumbledore and the woman, whose name was Madame Maxime, started to talk but Harry paid them no mind as he watched the Beauxbatons students started to filter out of the carriage: all beautiful boys and girls wearing similar pale blue robes as the first small boy and all appearing to be in their late teens. They stood behind Madame Maxime shivering, which was unsurprising given how their robes seemed to be made of fine silk and none of them were wearing cloaks.

“Idiots,” Harry muttered as he pointed them out to Ron, who snorted.

Dumbledore and Maxime continued to talk for a moment, Hagrid walking up to them as Dumbledore mentioned him, before Madame Maxime and her students walked inside the castle, the Hogwarts students parting to let them past. Harry, however, did not move as his eyes were still scanning the horizon, eager and desperate to see the school that teaches the Dark Arts.

His body shivered with anticipation His eyes started to strain as he tried to glare at the horizon, wanting and needing for the Durmstrang students to appear. “Can you hear something?” Ron interrupted him suddenly.

Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. …

“The lake!” Someone called out. From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water breaking. A whirlpool appeared and what seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool… and then Harry saw the rigging. …

“It’s a mast!” he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Harry tried his best to get a look at everyone who disembarked the ship as it reached the lake’s edge but all he could see were silhouettes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built like Crabbe and Goyle but then, as they drew nearer, he was that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shagged fur. But still, Harry mused, some of them were built. They were led by a man with sleek and silver hair. “Dumbledore!” he called heartily as he walked up the slope, “How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,” Dumbledore replied. _Karkaroff… so that’s him,_ Harry thought to himself. The traitorous coward who fled from the Dark Lord. Harry frowned as his thoughts shifted towards Wormtail, a cowardly traitor like Karkaroff but worse. At least Karkaroff did not cause his parents’ deaths.

Harry watched Karkaroff with interest. He was thin and tall like Dumbledore, but his white hair was sort, and his goatee barely hid his weak chin. He had yellow teeth which was shown in a smile that did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. “Viktor, come along, into the warmth …you don’t mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. … Ahh and Klaus… of course,” Karkaroff said, his voice straining to hide disapproval as two of his students moved from the crowd. The first, Harry noticed, was tall and built with wide shoulders and walked slightly duck-footed while the second seemed only two-thirds the first’s size, his body skinny and fragile-looking, almost buried in the cloak he was wearing.

Ron punched Harry in the arm and hissed, “Harry— _it’s Krum!_ ”

 

It seemed that both Draco and Tom were correct. Krum was the stronger of the two, Klaus always being by his side and Krum acting… doting on him. The Durmstrang students were sitting at the Slytherin Table as the Beauxbatons were sharing the Ravenclaw Table’s. Ron kept staring at the Slytherin Table, his eyes shifting between Krum and Malfoy. Harry watched as well, mostly noticing the interactions between Krum and Klaus: the fragile looking boy: Krum seemed to get the food for the fragile boy, the boy’s lips moving softly as he talked to Krum. Draco sat next to Krum and the two talked. Harry looked at Ron to see a jealous frown etched on his face.

Harry just smirked and shook his head. After the feast Dumbledore stood up and the crowded hall became silent. Harry tried to talk with Tom again, hugging the warm book to his body, but again Tom remained silent. A frown appeared on Harry’s lips as he looked between Ron and Draco. He couldn’t help but feel jealous at them; even though they weren’t together, at least they could touch each other, see each other. Didn’t have to wait for their dreams or only communicate through thoughts and a book. He sighed, tried to expel any jealousy he had in his mind and decided to focus on whatever speech Dumbledore was giving. He looked at the staff table and was shocked to see Mr. Crouch and Lugo Bagman there, he didn’t see the man enter.

Filch approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways …their magical prowess—their daring—their power of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. Out of the corner of his eyes Harry saw the fragile boy whispering something to Krum.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champion will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. It disappeared slowly, revealing a large, roughly hewn wooden cup filled to the brim with a dancing blue-white fire.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore said. “Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight; where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage students yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line.”

Outrage roar from the underage students, but Harry didn’t care. He was too busy trying to contact Tom, he missed his presence, his voice his touch. …While Harry was prepared to enjoy watching the Triwizard Tournament, he knew that it was not his first priority, that being regaining a body for Tom.

He spent the rest of Dumbledore’s speech trying to prod for Tom, searching deep within himself for his crush. _Tom, where are you? I can feel your diary, you’re so warm against me but I can’t hear you,_ Harry said desperately. For more than a year he and Tom had existed like this, and yet this is the first time the diary has even gone warm, or Tom was nowhere to be found. A bubble of panic rose in Harry. _Tom! Tom please answer! I miss you, I love you please!_ Harry cried out in his mind, unknowingly admitting his feelings for the Dark Lord. He had to do his best to hold back his tears as he stood with the rest of Gryffindor and started to walk out of the Great Hall.

Ron’s voice broke Harry from his grief as he said, “Where is he? Dumbledore didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?”

His query was answered almost immediately; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

Harry saw Krum (with Klaus under his arm) shake his head as he pulled his fur over both him and Klaus. “Professor,” said a small voice from under Krum’s arm, “I vood like some vine,” he looked up at Karkaroff.

“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” Karkaroff snapped, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. The fragile boy visible flinched and Krum looked at Karkaroff.

“I vood like some wine now, Professor,” Krum said.

“Fine,” Karkaroff snapped. He turned and led his students toward the doors.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked. “Did you see the way Professor Karkaroff acted? And why did Krum have a little boy under his cloak?”

“Cultural differences Hermione,” Harry answered. “He’s most likely Krum’s boyfriend.”

“Oh,” was all Hermione said. Harry and Ron shared a frown at the look of disapproval on Hermione’s face.

“Come on,” Harry said, “I’m tired.” The three went with the rest of the Gryffindors back to their common room. Harry’s mind was busy with worries of Karkaroff and Hermione’s comment. It seemed that his mission to help his beloved will be more difficult than it seemed, especially now that he learned of his friend’s apparent disapproval at Krum’s and Klaus’s relationship. Exhausted and needing to talk with Tom, Harry excused himself to bed. He disrobed, dressed in his pajamas, and slipped under the covers, closing his eyes.

And for the first time in over a year, Harry had a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

Silence. Silence. Silence. A dark void in which no sound, light, or air seemed to escape no matter how much one tries. A dark cave in which there is only darkness, and the dreadful, hollowing sound of nothingness. That is what Harry heard for the next day. Nothing. No voice whispering softly in his head as he went about the day; no presence near the edge of his mind hugging him softly as his thoughts whirled about; no terms of endearment uttered by a boy Harry is quickly falling in love with; nothing. Tom was nowhere to be found in Harry’s mind. He tired calling out, practically mediating in classes, his eyes closed as he yelled out Tom’s name in his mind, but nothing answered except his own thoughts and mind. The diary in his pocket continued to give off an unusual heat and Harry tried to write in it, but for some reason it was sealed shut, the book refusing to open.

The day for Harry past torturously slow. Even though excitement bustled around him, the minutes only crawled for Harry as he spent every second searching inside of him for Tom. Somehow time still past, and though heartbroken, his mind full of worries and fears, Harry made his way to the Great Hall for dinner. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days or because he was too preoccupied worrying about Tom, Harry didn’t seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally. Harry ate a little; looking around to see everyone else’s necks craned, seeing if Dumbledore was finished eating yet.

The golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

Harry couldn’t help but admit that even in his desperate, anxious mood, he was curious and somewhat excited to see who the Goblet of Fire chooses for the Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore made a small speech and suddenly the fire in the goblet turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it—the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm’s length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, in a strong, clear voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”

“No surprises there!” Harry heard Ron yell as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore’ he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

The clapping and chattering died down. Now everyone’s attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by flames.

 _Tom, where are you?_ Harry asked again, only to have silence reply to him. The second champion, Fleur Delacour, stood up and walked the path Krum did into the next chamber. The stiff silence outside once Fleur Delacour disappeared mirrored the silence in Harry’s mind. Only while excitement surrounded Harry as the Hogwarts champion will be called next, inside his mind things were not so cheerful.

“The Hogwarts Champion,” Dumbledore called, “is Cedric Diggory!”

“No!” Ron said loudly, but nobody heard him except Harry; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

_Tom! Tom! TOM! Where are you?_

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have out three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—“

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out—

“ _Harry Potter._ ”

Harry froze. He was stunned; he felt numb; he was surely dreaming. _Tom. Tom. Tom. I need you._ There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat. Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

Harry turned towards Draco on the opposite of Hall. His friend had a troubled look on him, a grimace staring out at Harry that wasn’t directed at the Gryffindor, but instead the situation. Harry turned to Hermione and Ron to see them staring blankly; the Gryffindors staring at him openmouthed.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly. “You know I didn’t. …”

Both of them stared just as blankly back. At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straighten up, nodding at Professor McGonagall. “Harry Potter!” he called again. “Harry! Up here, if you please!”

 _Tom where are you! Tom I don’t know what to do! Tom! Tom!_ Harry called out in his mind as Hermione gave him a gentle push to shock him out of his frozen state. He got to his feet, and set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; from the Hufflepuffs he could feel their angry glares digging into his skin with each step he took. _Tom, where the hell are you? I need you!_ Harry thought again, his hand subtly going to the diary which still burned warm against his body. _Tom please! I don’t know what is going on, how to explain it, anything._ After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

“Well … through the door, Harry,” Dumbledore said. He wasn’t smiling. Harry moved, trying to show his surprise, shock, and denial through his steps. He did not want to compete. He wanted to get out of this.

Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a small room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite of him. Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire.

Fleur Delacour turned around at the sound of Harry entering. “What is it?” she asked. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?”

 _Tom. Tom please why aren’t you here?_ Harry couldn’t answer or begin to explain, his mind still looking for Tom and trying to find a way out. There was a sound of scurry feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady,” he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. “May I introduce—incredible though it may seem—the _fourth_ Triwizard champion!”

Harry tried to pull from Bagman’s grip. Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said.

“No! I want out,” Harry struggled.

“Ha!” Fleur Delacour laughed as she tossed her hair. “Vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

Krum’s thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

“But evidently zair ‘as been a mistake,” she said contemptuously to Bagman. “’E cannot compete. ‘E is too young.”

“And too small,” Krum said. “He is frail-looking like Klaus.”

“Well… it is amazing,” Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet …I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage—“

“What? No!” Harry said, getting the attention of everyone. “You cannot be serious, I can’t compete! I don’t want to!”

“Don’t want to compete?” Bagman repeated as thought the idea was ludicrous.

“He is lying, obviously!” Fleur Delacour said. “He—“

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door. _Tom, please,_ Harry begged again.

“Madame Maxime!” Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-door?” Madame Maxime said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff said. The two headmasters started yelling at Dumbledore, demanding that he explains exactly what had just happened and why Hogwarts now has two champions while they only have one.

“Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for this,” Snape drawled. “It is not Professor Dumbledore’s fault. Potter has a certain determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—“

“I don’t want to compete!” Harry repeated. He threw out any annoyance and hatred he had for Dumbledore and looked at the man, knowing fully that he can see his changing aura and said, “Professor, you have to believe me. I don’t want this. You have to get me out of this completion!”

Dumbledore looked down at Harry emotionlessly. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” he asked calmly.

“No,” Harry said. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows. “I don’t want this, I told you that! I never wanted to enter the tournament!”

“Ah, but of course he is lying!” Madame Maxime cried.

“The hell he is! The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magic object only an exceptionally powerful confundus charm could have hoodwinked it! Magic way too advanced for a fourteen year old wizard!” Moody’s voice yelled quickly as he got into the room.

Professor Karkaroff turned to Moody and said, “You’ve seemed to have given this a bit of thought, Mad-Eye.”

“It was once my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff,” Moody retorted in a menacing voice, “as you ought to remember.”

“That doesn’t help Alastor!” Dumbledore said. Harry wondered for a moment whom he was speaking to, but then realized “Mad-Eye” could barely be Moody’s real first name. Dumbledore walked up to Barty Crouch, who was standing half in the shadows, his face reminding Harry of a sunken skull, and said, “We’ll leave this to you, Barty.”

Mr. Crouch stepped into the firelight and said, “The Goblet of Fire is constitutes a magical binding contract. Mr. Potter has no choice but to compete as a Triwizard Champion.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room. Harry fidgeted on his spot as the adults stared at him, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff showing their distain openly. “Well,” Mr. Bagman said after a while, rubbing his hands together, looking rather excited. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is.” Bagman grinned at the four champions. “You are not permitted to ask for help from anybody, you will only be armed with your wands and will receive information on the second task one the first is over! And that’s it!”

Madame Maxime called for Fleur to come with her once Bagman was done. Fleur accidently knocked into Harry, the warm feeling to his side disappearing immediately as the diary was knocked out of his robes and onto the floor. None of the adults seemed to notice as Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they to left in silence.

Cedric bent down and picked up the book. “Harry,” he said, getting both Harry’s and Dumbledore’s attention. “I think this fell out of your pocket.”

Panic raced through Harry’s eyes before quickly being replaced by relief. “Thank you,” he said as he took Tom’s diary back and placing it again in his robe pocket, hugging it close to his body, the heat starting to radiate once more. _Tom, Tom!_ He called out again.

“Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,” Dumbledore said smiling at both of them. “I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together. The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality. Cedric was silent as he and Harry walked out of the Great Hall. Harry assumed that Cedric was going to climb the steps with him, but instead he headed for a door to the marble staircase’s right. Harry was about to climb the stairs when he heard a voice whisper his name. “Potter! Get over here!”

Harry turned to see Draco standing by the staircase leading down towards the dungeons. He gave Harry an impatient look, his arms crossed, as Harry walked over to him. “Draco, what do you want?”

“Did you put your name in?” Draco asked.

“No!” Harry said vehemently, tired of everyone asking him that.

“Good,” Draco said, although his face showed the opposite. “Then we need to figure out how exactly this happened. What does our Lord have to say about this?”

Harry frowned and shuffled his feet as he looked down to stare at them. “I, I haven’t heard from him…” he said. “Not for a day…”

“What?”

“I don’t know why but, Tom stopped talking to me! I can’t hear him, feel him, or anything! I don’t know what’s going on,” Harry said, his voice hitching. Draco frowned and bit the bottom of his lip.

“Then we’ll just have to figure this out by ourselves until our Lord comes back,” he said. “I’m sure he’s not gone forever.”

“I hope so… I miss him,” Harry said.

Draco nodded and said, “Okay let’s focus Harry. Why would someone put your name in the Goblet of Fire?”

“I do not know,” Harry frowned. His eyes darted towards the floor again and said, “I can’t be… but… maybe someone wants me… dead?”

“Dead? Why would somebody wants you dead?” Draco asked.

“Considering that I’ve repeatedly defeated Voldemort,” Harry said, ignoring the flinch that Draco gave at the Dark Lord’s name, “it would be likely.”

Draco frowned, but did not correct Harry on saying the Dark Lord’s name. Instead he said, “Twice. You’ve only beaten him twice. But why would anyone in support of our Lord try to attack you? You’re practically dating him… in your head… as you um try to find him a body—I’m sorry but that is just too weird for me.”

Harry did not comment on that, instead saying “I’m working on that, but Draco we need to focus now. Why would someone who wants me dead put me in the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Well, what would happen if you died during one of the tasks?” Draco asked.

“They would try to get the person right?”

“No, they would think it is an accident. Champions dying in the tournament is frequent,” Draco said. “Why do you think it has been discontinued for so long? If you or anyone one else died, it would just be another name in a very long list. Somebody wants you dead, and they are hoping that you would die in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Then who could it be?” Harry asked.

“That is a very good question,” Draco said. He paced around, his arms still crossed and looked at Harry. “Tell me everybody you know that hates you.”

“Aside from practically the whole school now?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco said seriously.

“Well, your dad for one, no offense,” Harry said, Draco just shrugged so he continued, “Pettigrew, but I don’t see how he could sneak into here; the Marauder’s Map would show him. Besides, according to Sirius and Lupin he’s a coward. And there’s also those followers of Voldemort, but they’re gone right? All in Azkaban. …”

“Maybe,” Draco frowned. “I am certain that it is not my father, his ego would cause him to hold some information over me, and it cannot be any of the Seventh year Slytherins as they are all too weak to successfully confound the Goblet of Fire. Pettigrew, as you said, is too much of a coward to do anything correctly, and of the Death Eaters I know personally, most of them are in Azkaban; the others lied about their allegiance.”

“They did?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Draco nodded. “It was a better alternative to going to Azkaban. Besides, they all thought the Dark Lord was dead.”

Harry nodded but still frowned. “That doesn’t help me though. Who would put my name in the Goblet of Fire? It would be impossible for any of those guys to sneak into Hogwarts overnight.”

“Well, you’re right it might be impossible… but it could make sense. Sneak in, trick the Goblet of Fire to pick you, and you die in one of the dangerous tasks,” Draco said.

“But why go through the trouble of sneaking into Hogwarts just to put my name in the goblet?” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t it be more efficient to just try and kill me in my sleep? Besides how would they know where the Goblet of Fire is?”

“I guess I see your point,” Draco said with a slight frown. “If they did sneak into Hogwarts, they would first have to go past a barrage of protections that surrounds the castle. Then they would have to find the Goblet of Fire and begin the Confundus Charm… it would have to be very powerful.”

“That’s what Professor Moody said,” Harry said. “He said that only a powerful Confundus Charm could have confused the Goblet of Fire.”

“And he’s correct,” Draco said. He thought for a moment and looked at Harry. “I think we should make a list of everyone who hates you, is a Death Eater, and powerful enough to cast a Confundus Charm on the Goblet of Fire.”

“Then there would be only one person: Voldemort,” Harry said automatically. “And he’s in some far off country far away. At least… I think he is. Besides! He’s weaken. Dumbledore told me that he’s barely living.”

Draco sighed and licked his lips. “There has to be more, I mean, the Dark Lord had many powerful allies. …I need to think, let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

“Like how the school is going to react to you being our champion along with Diggory,” Draco said. “I can already tell you the other Slytherins are only going to hate you more.”

“Oh joy,” Harry drawled. “As if I didn’t have enough problems already, now I have to deal with your housemates.”

Draco snickered and said, “I’ll try to control them… though they suddenly like Diggory a lot now. Who knows, I might persuade… two of them to at least keep it civil. The whole school thinks you’ve put your name in the cup yourself, you know. It’s going to be hell trying to convince everyone that you didn’t. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry frowned.

Draco moved his lips for a second then, moving back towards the stairway leading to the dungeons, “For now I think we should focus on trying to get our Lord back. Is the diary unharmed?”

“Yeah it is,” Harry said. He pulled it out, his fingers feeling the diary’s warmth, and showed it to Draco. Draco just wrapped his hand around the spine of the diary, Harry still holding it, and they looked at each other.

“It’s still warm, like a flushed body,” Draco said. “I think we should take it as a sign that our Lord is still here. Have you tried writing in it?”

“I can’t get it open,” Harry said. And to emphasize he moved the diary from Draco’s hand and placed both hands on the covers of the dairy. Using his strength, he pulled the covers apart but the diary did not bulge. “See?” Harry said.

Draco made a confused, disappointed face and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do, Harry. Sorry.”

“Me neither…” Harry said more sadly. He pocketed the diary. “I should return to the Gryffindor Tower,” he told Draco. “They’re waiting for me.”

“For a party you want nothing to do with?” Draco smirked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. Draco chuckled and said, “You should go into the dorm then. Maybe practicing on the Dark Arts would get your mind off of everything. It would at least get rid of some of your disgusting golden aura.”

Harry chuckled and smiled. “You just want to see me surrounded by green, don’t you?”

“You look good in green Harry,” Draco said seriously. “And I know a certain redhead who’ll look good as well.”

“Then you should talk to him,” Harry said. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t act like those people on the dramas my Aunt Petunia watches.” Draco stared at Harry as if he spoke gibberish, his mouth opened slightly, his eyes filled with confusions, and his perfect arched brows furrowed slightly. “Never mind,” Harry said. “Just talk to him, alright?”

“I’ll think about it,” Draco said. “Good night Harry.”

“Night Draco,” Harry said. He waited until he couldn’t see Draco from the staircase and made his way up to the Gryffindor Tower. He was surprised to see that the Fat Lady was not alone in her frame. The wizen witch who had flittered into her neighbor’s painting when he had joined the champions downstairs was not sitting smugly beside the Fat Lady. She must have dashed through every picture lining seven staircases to reach here before him. Both, she and the Fat Lady, were looking down at him with the keenest interest.

“Well, well, well,” the Fat Lady said, “Violet’s just told me everything. Who’s just been chosen as school champion, then?”

“Balderdash,” Harry said dully.

“It most certainly isn’t!” the pale witch said indigantly.

“No, no, Vi, it’s the password,” the Fat Lady said soothingly, and she swung forward on her hinges to let Harry into the common room.

The blast of noise that met Harry’s ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

“You should’ve told us you’d entered!” Fred bellowed’ he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

“How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!” George roared.

Harry had no idea what George was talking about, but he felt deeply annoyed and wanted to get away from everybody. “I didn’t,” Harry said. “I don’t know how—“

Nobody wanted to hear that he hadn’t put his name in the goblet; nobody wanted to hear he was hungry when they offered food; not a single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn’t at all in the mood to celebrate. Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. He couldn’t get away, no matter which direction he went celebrating Gryffindors unknowingly blocked his way, wanted to pull him deeper in the celebration. A thought rushed through Harry’s mind and with inherited speed he pulled his wand out, pointed it in the air, and yelled “ _Aqua Eructo!_ ”

The weaker version of the water-making spell, Aquamenti, sprouted water out of Harry’s wand made a small arc in the air, and fell down like a light rain on the Gryffindors closest to Harry. There were screams of shock as the Gryffindors circling Harry ducked to cover their heads from the water. Harry used the distraction to pocket his wand, pushed past everyone, and ran into the dorms, ripping the Gryffindor banner off of him.

He was hoping to be alone in the dorms, but he was a little happy to see Ron lying in his bed. “Oh hello,” Ron said. “So… congratulations.”

“What d’you mean, congratulations?” Harry asked, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

“Well… no one else got across the Age Line,” Ron said. “Not even Fred and George. What did you use—the Invisibility Cloak?”

“That would not have worked,” Harry said slowly.

“Oh right,” Ron said. “I thought you might’ve told me if it was the cloak … because it would’ve covered both of us, wouldn’t it? But you found another way, did you?”

“Listen,” Harry said. “I didn’t put my name in the goblet. Someone else must’ve done it.”

Ron raised his eyebrows.

“What would they do that for?”

“I don’t know, maybe they’re hoping to kill me,” Harry said seriously.

Ron’s eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair. “It’s okay, you know, you can tell me the truth,” he said. “If you don’t want everyone to know, fine, but I don’t know why you’re bothering to exaggerate, you didn’t get into trouble for it, did you? Dumbledore’s letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don’t have ot do the end-of-year tests either. …”

“I didn’t put my name in that goblet!” Harry yelled, staring to feel angry.

“Yeah, okay,” Ron said, in a skeptical tone. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“You’re doing a really good impression of it,” Harry snapped.

“Yeah?” Ron said, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. “You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you’ll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something.”

He watched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him. Feeling angry, Harry did not bother changing as he went to his own bed, only slipping his shoes and socks off.

He found himself in his and Tom’s room. The white walls with only a window surrounding him. A feeling of hope sprung in his anger and he said, “Tom! Where were you—“ He turned to see an empty white throne.

“Tom,” Harry repeated again. His hurt and disappointment at seeing the empty chair mixed with the anger, confusion and frustration that grew inside him throughout the day. The room around him seemed to change and before he knew it, several unmarked dummies appeared standing in an arc in front of him. His wand appeared in his hand and he let out a harsh, hoarse scream. “ _Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!_ ”

Cuts and slashes appeared on the dummies in front of him. Harry continued to slash his wand and the dummies started to fall only be replaced by more dummies appearing out of thin air. Frustrated tears welled in Harry’s eyes as he continued to yell, “ _Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffin—Crucio! Crucio! CRUCIO!_ ” The severing charms slashed the dummies in front of him in two, but his pathetic attempt at the Cruciatus Curse barely did anything to the dummies in front of him. The worst is that one fell to the ground.

His emotions still not satisfied, Harry threw his wand at the dummies and slumped to the floor. Giving ear-splitting screams, he allowed his tears to fall and he cried. He cried, and cried, and cried until his body quaked with each breath he took, his cheeks were as red as fire and felt raw, his throat hoarse, his body sagged and heavy, and mind hurting. But even as he felt that, tears continued to fall, and he hoped that he would feel a comforting hand, hear a gentle whisper, or a soft kiss and he would look up to see Tom crouching over him. Unfortunately, Harry’s life was not that type of story.

For as he cried into the silence of the white room, the only thing that answered his tears was silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

Harry lost count how many days Tom was away. He was still trying to get over the fact that he was now a Triwizard Champion, and facing an unknown enemy in the first task. A couple of weeks after his name was announced, Harry found himself having his wand weighed and being interviewed by a vile woman named Rita Skeeter. She wanted a little word with Harry before the wand weighing begins. Harry still felt a surge of illness remembering their conversation.

They were in a broom closet and Harry was sitting on an upside down bucket. Skeeter looked over Harry like a hawk eyeing her next prey as her quill hung in the air, ready to scribe. So Harry, what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Err—“ Harry said, but he was distracted by the quill. Even though he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence:

**_An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose age—_ **

“Ignore the quill, Harry,” Rita Skeeter said firmly, “now—why did you decide to enter the tournament, Harry? Was it for love? To prove your strength to a shy girl you long for?”

“What? No, I didn’t. I don’t know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn’t put it in there.”

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow.

“Come now, Harry, there’s no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel, especially one who is doing this for a girl he loves.”

“I don’t love a girl, I’m gay! And I did not put my name in the Goblet!” Harry insisted.

“Ohhh, interesting,” Rita said as the quill scribbled something down. “How do you feel about the tasks ahead?” “Excited? Nervous?”

“I haven’t really thought… yeah, nervous, I suppose,” Harry said. His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke.

“Past champions died of course. But then again, you’ve looked death in the face before, haven’t you?” Rita Skeeter said, watching closely. “How would you say that’s affected you?”

“Er”

“Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter—“

“I did not enter!” Harry yelled, feeling irritated.

“Can you remember your parents at all?” Skeeter said, talking over him.

“No.”

“How do you think they’d feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry? How about if they knew you were gay?”

Harry was feeling really annoyed now. How on earth was he to know how his parents would feel if they were alive? He could feel Rita Skeeter watching in very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and looked down at words the quill had just written:

**_Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversations turns to parents he can barely remember._ **

“I don’t have tears in my eyes!” Harry said loudly.

Their interview was cut short when Dumbledore appeared in the broom closet’s doorway. Harry’s annoyance and anger at the woman stayed with him during the entire wand weighing ceremony. It was made worst with Ron. The boy that was supposed to be his best friend was avoiding him, jealousy filling his fiber. He asked Draco to talk with Ron, but so far the blond either couldn’t build up the courage or find the time to talk with him.

The First Task was coming closer and closer day by day and with each day there was still no news from Tom, Ron refused to talk with him, and Harry still had no idea what the task will be. At least he will be talking with Sirius.

On the day of Harry was supposed to talk with Sirius, Hagrid came up to Harry and whispered to him that he had something to show Harry that night. Hiding under his Invisibility Cloak, Harry followed Hagrid into the Forebidden Forest where they were met up with Madame Maxime, and the three (two to Madame Maxime) went further into the forest.

“Dragons!” Madame Maxime gasped when they walked into a clearing.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting—torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs.

“Keep back there, Hagrid!” a wizard yelled near the fence. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve seen this Horntail do forty!”

“Is’n’it beautiful?” Hagrid said softly.

“It’s no good!” another wizard yelled. “Stunning Spells, on the count of three!”

Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand. “ _Stupefy_!” they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons’ scaly hides.

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs; its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl; its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flames, thought still smoking—then, very slowly, it fell.

The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley.

“Andrei! Come here!” Charlie yelled as he ran towards Hagrid. “All right, Hagrid?” he panted. “They should be okay now—we put them out with a Sleeping Draught on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet—but, like you saw, they weren’t happy, not happy at all—here’s Andrei!”

Harry saw a tall muscular man with thick hairy arms walk up to Charlie and placed his arm around Charlie’s waist. “You need something Char?” he asked, his English rough with his Romanian accent.

“Just wanted you to meet Hagrid,” Charlie said. “Hagrid, this is Andrei. Andrei, this Hagrid.”

“Char told me all about you, Hagrid,” the man said, shaking Hagrid’s hand. Harry realized at that time that the dragon tamer was about Hagrid’s height.

“So, what breeds you got here?” Hagrid asked, gazing at the closet dragon. Andrei returned to his place beside Charlie as the Weasley said, “This is a Hungarian Horntail. There’s a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one—a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray—and a Chinese Fireball, that’s the red.”

“I pity whoever has the Horntail,” Andrei said. “She’s a dangerous one! Took twenty of us just to get her in the cage.”

“Four… so it’s one fer each o’ the champions, is it? What’ve they gotta do—fight ‘em?”

“Just get past them, I think,” Charlie said. “We’ll be on hand if it gets nasty. Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers. I don’t know why …but I tell you this, I don’t envy the one who gets the Horntail. Like Andry says, it’s a vicious thing. Its back end’s as dangerous as its front, look.”

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail’s tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-covered spikes protruding along it every few inches. He had a horrible feeling and frowned under the cloak. _Tom, I have a feeling I’m going to be fighting the Horntail,_ he thought only to have silence answer him in return.

“How’s Harry?” Charlie asked.

“Fine, Hagrid said, but he was gazing at the keepers who were staggering up to the Horntail carrying a clutch of huge granite-grey eggs.

“Just hope he’s still fine after he’s faced this lot,” Charlie said grimly, looking out over the dragons’ enclosure. “I didn’t dare tell Mum what he’s got to do for the first task, and I had Andrei promise not to even mention the word dragons around her. She’s already having kittens about him…” Charlie imitated his mother’s anxious voice. _“How could they let him enter that tournament, he’s much too young! I thought they were all safe. I thought there was going to be an age limit!”_

Andrei chuckled in his deep voice as Charlie continued to mimic Mrs. Weasley, mentioning the Daily Prophet article. Harry had enough and turned to leave. He didn’t know whether he was glad he’d seen what was coming or not. Perhaps this way was better. The first shock was over now. Maybe if he’d seen the dragons for the first time on Tuesday, he would have passed out cold in front of the whole school. But still… how was he supposed to face on a dragon with only his wand?

When he reached the edge of the forest, Harry tripped and looked up to see what tripped him. It was a dark outline of a wizard, and a second later Harry realized it was Karkaroff. Harry couldn’t help but wonder what Karkaroff was doing here, then figured that he was doing the same thing Madame Maxime was doing: scouting out what the First Task is so they could tell their champion. _Seems like Dumbledore is the only one who’s keeping the unknown challenges concept,_ Harry thought to himself.

Making sure the Invisibility Cloak was still on Harry ran across the grounds in the darkness and back into the castle. He reached the castle, slipped in through the front doors, and began to climb the marble stairs; he was very out of breath, but he didn’t dare slow down. …He had less than five minutes to get up to the fire. …

“Balderdash!” he gasped at the Fat Lady, who was snoozing in her frame in front of the portrait hole.

“If you say so,” she muttered sleepily, without opening her eyes, and the picture swung forward to admit him. Harry climbed inside. The common room was deserted. Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak off and got in front of the fire where Sirius’s head was sitting.

Harry got on his knees in front of the fireplace and said, “Sirius!” Sirius looked different from Harry’s memory of him. When they had said good-bye, Sirius’s face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quality of long, black, matted hair—but the hair was short and clean now, Sirius’s face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potter’s wedding.

“Never mind me, how are you?” Sirius said seriously.

“I’m—“ For a second, harry tired to say “fine”—but he couldn’t do it. Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he talked in days—about how no one believed he hadn’t entered the tournament of his own free will, how Rita Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn’t walk down a corridor without being sneered at, about Tom missing (he only referred to him as “my boyfriend” and “he”) –and about Ron, Ron not believe him, Ron’s jealousy…

“… and now Hagrid’s just shown me what’s coming in the first task, and it’s dragons, Sirius, and I’m a goner,” he finished desperately.

Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern. He had let Harry talk himself into silence without interruption, but now he said, “Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we’ll get to that in a minute—I haven’t got long here … I’ve broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.”

“What?” Harry asked, feeling his spirits slip a further few notches. …Surely there could be nothing worse than dragons coming?

“Karkaroff,” Sirius said. “Harry, he’s a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don’t you?”

“Yes, my boyfriend told me,” Harry said. “He also told me about Karkaroff.”

“Good. Now listen, Karkaroff was captured, but he was released. I’d bet everything that’s why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year—to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff, put him in Azkaban in the first place.”

“Why did they release him?” Harry asked.

“He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic,” Sirius said bitterly. “He said he’d seen the error of his ways, and then he named names … he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he’s been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his.”

“I thought that school was known for the Dark Arts,” Harry said slowly.

“It got worse with Karkaroff,” Sirius said.

“So are you saying that Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, then he’s a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing.”

“We know he’s a good actor,” Sirius said, “because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn’t he? The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn’t they? Someone set off the Dark Mark …and then—did you hear about the Ministry of Magic witch who’s gone missing?”

“Bertha Jorkins?” Harry said.

“Yes, she disappeared in Albania, and that’s definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last …and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn’t she?”

“So you’re thinking that Voldemort got the information from Bertha Jorkins, told Karkaroff, and Karkaroff put my name in the Goblet of Fire to kill me?” Harry asked.

“Yes, that is exactly what I am thinking Harry,” Sirius said. “But it worries me because Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him.”

“But there’s no way Voldemort can be that powerful!” Harry exclaimed. “Tom—my boyfriend told me that it’s impossible for Voldemort to become that powerful already! He, he doesn’t have a body or form!”

“How does he know this?” Sirius asked.

“I’ve told him about what happened during my first year,” Harry quickly said. “About how Voldemort possessed Quirrell, was living off of unicorn blood…”

“Then your boyfriend might be correct Harry,” Sirius said. “But we can worry about that in a bit.” Sirius was talking very quickly now. “There’s a way to beat these dragons Harry. Don’t be tempted to try a Stunning Spell—dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon. But you can do it alone. There is a way, and a simple spell’s all you need. Just—“

But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his heart suddenly pounding as though it would burst. He could hear footsteps coming down the spiral staircase behind him. “Go!” he hissed at Sirius. “Go! There’s someone coming!”

Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire—if someone saw Sirius’s face within the walls of Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar.

Harry heard a tiny _pop!_ in the fire behind him and knew Sirius had gone. He watched the bottom of the spiral staircase. Who had decided to go for a stroll at one o’clock in the morning, and stopped Sirius from telling him how to get past a dragon?

It was Ron.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked.

What’s that got to do with you?” Harry snarled. “What are you doing down here at this time of night?”

“I just wondered where you— never mind.”

“Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he didn’t care—at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers.

“Sorry about that,” Ron said, his face reddening with anger, “Should’ve realized you didn’t want to be disturbed. I’ll let you go on with practicing for your next interview in peace.”

Harry seized the nearest object and thrown it at Ron. It was a pencil and it hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off. He strode across the room toward the stiars; he half expected Ron to stop him, he would have liked Ron to throw a punch at him, but Ron just stood there in his too-small pajamas, and Harry, having stormed upstairs, lay awake in bed fuming for a long time afterward and didn’t hear him come up to bed.

 

“Stupid Potter!” Ron grunted. He slept in the common room that night, not wanting to deal with Harry or even be in the same dormitory with him. Sunday morning he waited for Harry to leave Gryffindor Tower before he even thought of going upstairs to change.

Fully dressed and still seething about Harry’s attitude, attention, and everything else, Ron muttered to himself as he walked down the corridors alone. “Damn attention-seeking Potter. Probably loving all the attention he’s getting from this. And he won’t even tell me, _me_ , how he got in! Stupid glory-seeking Potter.”

“I must say you are even more of an imbecile than I originally thought, Weasley,” a voice laughed.

“Who said that!?” Ron demanded, turning around to see no one. Keeping a vigilant eye, Ron turned on his spot, looking for the person who talked. “Come out!”

“I already am, but it looks like you’re holding onto some nasty things,” the voice said again. “Jealousy for one. I have to ask, are you jealous of the attention Harry is getting, or are you jealous because Harry won’t give you attention? Either way it’s understandable, he is a cute boy.”

Ron turned around again and thought he saw a wisp of hair going around a corner. Taking a careful step towards it he said, “Shut up about Harry! What you playing at anyways? Just come out so I can see you.”

“Or what? Are you going to stun me?” The voice chuckled. Why does it sound so familiar to Ron? “Or are you going to try something darker… something more dangerous? Thrilling?”

Ron didn’t answer. Instead he quickly made his way to the corner of the corridor and looked around. It was empty, nobody was there. “Where are you?” he growled annoyed.

“I’m right here Ron,” the voice chuckled. “Just tell me what you are going to do. About Harry, about me… I’ve seen your aura Ron. There’s a beautiful green that I want to see grow.”

“The hell you talking about?” Ron cursed. What the hell is an aura? He looked around the corridor but still found nothing.

“Honestly Ron just turn around,” the voice sighed. Ron immediately jumped around and saw Malfoy sitting on a windowsill smiling at him. “Hello,” he said.

“What do you want Malfoy?” Ron snarled at him.

“Just to talk,” Malfoy said, his voice sounding surprisingly genuine. Still sitting on the windowsill Malfoy looked out the window and said, “You know, you really shouldn’t badmouth Harry like that. He could actually die on Tuesday.”

“I—he—“ Ron stuttered.

“I am serious,” Malfoy said. “Champions have died in the past, why should the present be different?”

“Don’t threaten Harry like that!” Ron yelled, coming to his senses.

“Threaten Harry?” Malfoy repeated. “You imbecile I’m trying to _save_ Harry! At least from the headache that his supposed best friend is giving him.”

“Save him?” Ron repeated slowly. “Why would you… why do you want to save Harry? You hate him.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” Ron said.

“Have you seen me wearing one of those disgusting Potter Stinks badges?” Malfoy asked, referring to a new badge that was becoming rather popular with the Hogwarts students.

“No but still… you hated Harry for years, you hated us for years. Why are you looking out for Harry now? Hmm?” Ron demanded.

“Because Harry is my friend Ron,” Malfoy said.

“Bull!”

“It certainly is not,” Malfoy said. “Harry and I became friends in third year. As for why he didn’t tell you or Granger… well, it should be obvious.”

Ron gave Malfoy a skeptical look and frowned. “Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Malfoy smiled and faced Ron directly. “Because Ron, I just want to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“Things,” Malfoy shrugged. “For one I want to know you more.”

“Why?” Ron asked again.

“Simple: I like you,” Malfoy smiled. Ron stared at him utterly confused so Malfoy elaborated. “I like you Ron, more than I like Harry. I’m interested in you both because of that bit of green aura you have around you and I find you a bit hot.”

Ron’s cheeks blushed a little both from embarrassment and anger. “What do you mean by aura? What is that!?”

“Well,” Malfoy drew out, “The short version is that an aura is a reflection of a wizard’s magical tendencies. Golden auras mean that a wizard is more likely to lean towards the Light side of magic while a green aura like emeralds means that a wizard has a lean towards the Dark Arts. You can’t lie to me Ron, I can see the beginnings to a beautiful green aura around you…”

“You’re insa—“

“It’s even more beautiful than Harry’s,” Malfoy smirked.

“What,” Ron said, his voice leaving his body as he stared at Malfoy. Harry? Doing the Dark Arts? How is that possible? There’s no way… Harry would never… “You’re lying,” he said.

“No, I’m not,” Malfoy said. “I would never lie to you about this. Harry is slipping into the Dark Arts… just as you are Ron.”

“Then you must be the one who pushed him into it!” Ron yelled out.

Malfoy smiled and shook his head, “No… no I wasn’t the one who seduced Harry like that Ron. Didn’t I already tell you? I like you, not Harry. I want to help you.”

“How?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowing at Malfoy. Malfoy finally slid off of the windowsill and stood his full height. Walking up to Ron they’ve met eye-to-eye and Malfoy smiled. “Simple Ron, let me be your friend. I like you, but I don’t want to force you. If we become friends, then you will see how much I care for you, how diversified the Dark Arts truly is… and there will be no more secrets between you and Harry.”

“What you talking about? What secrets?” Ron asked, his blue eyes meeting Malfoy’s silver.

Malfoy sighed and shook his head. “There are things that… Harry really wants to tell you, but can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s scared,” Malfoy said. “You’re his best friend Ron, a position that I will never attain. He is scared of losing you. Even though he has…if Harry loses you Ron, I think he would break down.”

“As if! He has Hermione—“

“Granger? Please, you think Harry would tell all his secrets to Granger? No,” Malfoy said. “They are close friends, but you… you are his best friend. Practically his brother. If you walked away from him, it will be like losing his family all over again. I don’t want that for Harry, I really don’t. So I am here to say the things that he cannot.”

“And what is that?”

“Don’t leave him,” Malfoy said, his voice missing the usual arrogance and egotism that Malfoy always talked with. “Harry did not enter himself in the tournament. Somebody has set him up for failure; somebody wants Harry to get hurt… or worse. The whole school is against him and the one person he can turn to has turned his back from him. Ron. You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for believing rumors than your best friend, you’re an idiot to let your jealousy get the better of you, and you are an idiot for abandoning Harry.”

“Thanks,” Ron said roughly.

“You need to hear this Ron, I am serious,” Malfoy said. “Let Harry explain… please. Listen to him. And… if you can… give me a chance. Will you do that?”

Ron looked at Draco. Ron studied Draco’s face for a long time, looking at his eyes, his lips, his cheeks, looking for any sign any clue that Draco was lying. But he found nothing. Confused yet missing his friend, Ron dragged the silence out for as long as he could, just staring at Draco, his blue eyes always drifting back towards Draco’s silver. No matter how deep or how long Ron looked, he could find no lie in Draco’s eyes. Frustrated at this, Ron gave a defeated sigh and nodded. “Fine… I’ll talk to Harry.”

“And as for me?” Draco asked, looking hopeful.

“I’ll think about it,” Ron muttered, doing his best to ignore the embarrassed flush on his face.

“Thank you,” Draco smiled. “You have no idea how grateful I am that you’ve listened. See you Ron.”

“See you Mal… Draco,” Ron said quietly as Draco turned and walked away. Confusion overtook Ron as a multitude of emotions bounced inside him, each asking a single question: “How do I feel about Draco?”

Finding no answer Ron decided to just turn around and look for Harry.

 

He told Cedric. It was the right thing to do. Cedric was the only champion who did not know about the dragons and Harry couldn’t on good conscious let Cedric go in blind when the other three have an advantage. Cedric was thankful and they parted, but not before Mad-Eye Moody pulled Harry to the side and brought Harry to his office. It was in there that Harry finally had an idea on how to get past the dragon: his Firebolt. For the rest of Monday into late at night he and Hermione practiced the Summoning Charm. It was near midnight, Harry mostly got it correct and both were about to collapse in exhaustion.

“Good job Harry,” Hermione said, her eyes barely staying open. “I think that you’re ready for the dragon tomorrow…”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “But I still don’t have it perfectly yet.”

“We can try it again if you want,” Hermione said hiding a yawn behind her hand.

Harry shook his head, “No, you go to bed it’s late. Thanks for all your help Hermione. Seriously.”

“Anytime,” Hermione said. “Just don’t stay up all night, okay Harry? We don’t want you exhausted for the task tomorrow. … I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she repeated. Harry gave her a sleepy smile and watched as she left the empty classroom they were in.

He turned towards a pillow on the far side of the classroom and pointed his wand at it. “ _Accio pillow!_ ” he yelled. The pillow jiggled a little before zooming towards Harry, colliding with his chest forcefully before falling on the ground.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Harry gasped and turned around at the intruder’s voice. He stared at the intruder, his mind going into shock for a moment, his mouth hung wide and eyes open. Harry quickly got control of his face again and his voice quivering as he fought back the tears, he said “Tom!?”

The intruder smiled. “Yes Harry. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? Sorry for the delay but I was rather busy.” Harry just stared at Tom in shock. He wasn’t a ghost yet Harry could tell that he wasn’t solid either. Tom stood in front of Harry, his outline faded but the rest just as colored and looking as real as Tom does in his dreams. “Don’t worry Harry, only you can see me,” Tom said.

“Where were you?” Harry asked, tears running down his cheeks. “Tom! Where were you! You left me! You left me and—I thought you were gone! I thought that I would never see you again!”

“Quit crying Harry, as I said I was busy,” Tom said coldly. That only made Harry cry harder as his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t tell me to quit crying!” Harry screamed. “Do you know how many days you were gone? Twenty-two! Twenty-two days Tom. Twenty-two days of me not knowing where you were, of me crying for you in my sleep, of me not knowing if I will ever get to actually touch you! Where were you Tom?”

“I was busy,” Tom said. “If you would cease your crying I will tell you. But first, tell me exactly why you are practicing the Summoning Charm so late at night.” Tom moved towards a nearby desk and moved to sit on it. Dust moved around him as if his body actually made contact with the wood.

Harry took several breaths and waited until he trusted his voice not to gargle gibberish before he started talking. “Somebody entered me in the Triwizard Tournament. Whoever he is wants me dead, and they are using the tournament to make it look like an accident. Our first task is dragons, we have to get past them to get… something, I don’t know what, and since I don’t know any spells that work against Dragons I am playing to my strengths and practicing the summoning charm in order to summon my Firebolt. Oh and also while you were gone I had several mental breakdowns, spent every night alone in my bed crying, and had a falling out with my best friend Ron. Now where the hell were you?”

“Language Harry,” Tom said. “I was away. I decided that I needed more information so we can move forward with our plan. You know, the one where I can regain my body in order to touch my precious pet? My sweet Harry whom I adore? In order to do that I decided to go directly to the source where I could get all the information I require, and that was Lord Voldemort himself.

“You should have seen him Harry, he was a disgusting thing. Only a husk of a man, if even that. He is in hiding, cowering along with that sniveling servant Wormtail as he waits for power. It was a disgrace, a tragedy, to see my future reduced to that disgusting creature. I had to move quietly, work slowly in order for Voldemort not to sense me. I think if he did, he would try to probe me for information, or at least try to drain my power in order to fuel his own. As if I would allow that disgrace to use _my_ power! My power only belongs to two people, my sweet; they are only you and me. But anyway, I needed information, and Voldemort had it. I needed to know what he was planning, what he did, and why he did what he did. And I have learned a lot.

“First, I am not surprised by the Triwizard Tournament, or your forced entry. You are right: somebody wanted you to compete, and that is Voldemort. He has a surprise waiting for you at the end of the Third Task, a surprise that we will use to our advantage. There are so many things I need to tell you my Harry, so many things to teach you… but now is not the time. No, we must focus on the task at hand and the information that is most prevalent. He plans to use you for his own resurrection, but I believe we should instead use him! We shall let that empty husk do all the hard work for us and at the end… we shall strike and take what is rightfully ours. I do not know how we will specifically accomplish that yet, but worry not Harry I will figure out a way.

“In the meantime, I should tell you a couple of things: Voldemort made several Horcruxes not just the diary and you. Apparently he did not know that you hold a piece of his soul, and luckily I have recently learned of a most useful ability: the ability to absorb parts of Voldemort’s souls. He had a snake with him, Nagini I believe her name was, and she too was a Horcrux like you and the diary. Only this snake held the smallest part of Voldemort’s soul, which was split so many times. It was easy, really, to take control and siphon the soul. Of course, it being a creature, the process killed the snake. However I did not want that weak, pathetic husk to know of my presence so I had to take the time and prepare and cast a prolonged animation spell on the snake’s body. The spell was troublesome, but with the intellect and power I’ve gained from that small piece of soul, I was successful in my casting. That took three days to do: the siphoning and casting. The rest was spent gathering information. I can tell you Harry why Voldemort killed your parents… why he killed you… would you like that, my prince?”

Harry stared at Tom, taking a moment to process everything that he had said. Shocked, yet somehow relieved, Harry found his voice acting on it’s own as he asked, “Why… why did my parents die?”

“For you, my prince,” Tom said sorrowfully. “That husk as well as Dumbledore believed in a prophecy that revolved around you. It is short, surely cannot be the whole prophecy, but nevertheless the husk based his actions on such words.”

“A… prophecy…” Harry said slowly, trying to comprehend it. Frustration and anger slowly leaked into him the more he thought about it. Words! His parents died because of words! Someone spoke some words and Voldemort believed it!? Dumbledore believed it! “What was it?” he barely asked.

“The prophecy? The part that Voldemort knows goes as followed… ‘ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…’_ And that’s all that Voldemort knows,” Tom shrugged.

“That’s it!?” Harry seethed. “My parents died because of that!?” Harry’s anger grew inside him as he lashed out at Tom. “Are you kidding me!? That’s—that’s— _ARGHH!_ ” Harry screamed. His moved automatically and he found himself releasing rage that built heaven knows how long on every single piece of furniture close to him. Desks shattered into a million pieces, pillows were slashed and feathers launched out like blood in an eighties horror movie, chairs became a pile of smothering bits as embers danced around them, the blackboard cracked. Tom watched with mild amusement as Harry destroyed the room around them. Hearing Tom’s chuckle, Harry spun around and yelled _“Crucio!”_

The spell fazed through Tom, leaving him unaffected. Tom, however, was not angry at Harry. Instead he watched as his prince broke down into tears. Harry fell to floor, barely standing on his knees, his wand dropped next to him as he brought his hands to his face, his fingers pushing his glasses off. It was a pathetic sight, seeing Harry Potter crying in the middle of the destroyed classroom. Tom sighed and slipped off of the lone desk that survived the destruction. With careful steps Tom bent down and picked up Harry’s wand. With a wave the entire room repaired itself around the couple. With the room repaired, Tom bent on one knee and gently picked up Harry’s glasses.

“You’re so young,” he whispered. “Sometimes I forget that I am talking to someone who is only fourteen years old. I’ve spent so many years in my diary that I forgot how emotional everyone else is. Harry, look at me.” The teen sniffled and looked at Tom. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks flushed and his nose had the beginnings of snot running from it. Tom used his sleeve and wiped Harry’s face clean. Harry was shocked that Tom could touch him, but did not question it. He wanted this moment to last. They both did.

“I suppose that it is possible that I should have told you my intentions instead of just leaving. But I needed to know Harry, I needed to begin the process of regaining my power. I can touch you now, but only for so limited a time, my prince. I want to touch you before Voldemort’s plan sets into action. For a year I have been your shadow, your guardian, and only now I realize our draw, our need for each other,” Tom confessed. “Harry, there are things that happened that neither of us knew, but now I have the opportunity, the chance to use them for our advantage. Everything I do now and since we’ve met was for you, my prince, everything. I want to touch you Harry, I want to feel you and not for just a short amount of time, but forever.”

“But…”

“Shh Harry, it’s alright,” Tom said. He gently took the glasses in his hands and placed them on the bridge of Harry’s nose. “There are more Horcruxes out there Harry. I was successful in that regard. There will be times where I will be gone and during those times I will be absorbing those pieces of my soul, growing ever more powerful for both of us, and with each piece of soul I absorb, I believe I will be one step closer to becoming a reality. But for now… for now I’ll stay with you Harry. I’ll stay with you like this, for as long as you need me.”

“I always need you,” Harry whispered. He looked up at Tom and said “Don’t you realize Tom? I’ll always need you. I love you Tom.”

Tom smiled and said, “Love is a powerful emotion. One that Dumbledore says I do not understand.” He shook his head and smirked. “I told you that Dark Magic is not void of love. In fact, magic in general is most powerful when love is its fuel. Why should the Dark Arts be different? I will be honest Harry, you are the third person I have fallen in love with. I hope that unlike the first two… that I don’t scare you away… that I don’t lose you. I am horrible at talking about emotions Harry, but I can tell you that what I feel for you is stronger than any emotion I have ever felt before.”

Tom placed his hands on Harry’s shoulder and smiled down on the boy. Harry looked up and their eyes met. “You are my prince Harry, and I will make sure that nothing harms you.”

“Tom…” Harry breathed. Tom shook his head and bent down. And for the first time in little under a year, they kissed. Harry held onto Tom for support, throwing his bodyweight onto the teen and Tom took it all. Tom moved so he was sitting with his legs crossed and Harry was in his lap. They continued to kiss until Harry’s entire body was drained of emotions and only exhaustion was left in their wake.

Tom chuckled and said, “Come my prince, you need your sleep.” Harry just nodded and got to his feet. Tom slipped Harry’s wand in Harry’s pocket and walked with him out of the classroom and into the corridors. With each step Tom became less focused, less material. He still had his color yet Harry could tell that at that moment he couldn’t touch Tom. “Only you can see me when I am like this Harry. You hold a piece of my soul, and that creates a bond between us that will never break,” Tom explained, answering Harry’s unasked question.

Harry nodded, too tired to even comment on it, and together they’ve walked back up to the Gryffindor Tower. Harry muttered the password to the Fat Lady, who again swung open without opening her eyes, and he climbed in. Tom followed; his ghostly image acting as Harry’s shadow once again as Harry crossed the common room and climbed the stairs to the dormitory. Inside the fourth year boys’ dormitory, all the other Gryffindors were sleeping, the room filled with their soft snores and grumbles. Harry barely looked at any one of them as he stripped, stepping into his bed in only his underwear. He was too tired to even change into pajamas. Tom chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. Harry was surprised to see that the bed did not compress or groan as Tom sat on it.

“Sleep now my prince, we have a dangerous day tomorrow,” Tom whispered. “But for tonight, all is calm and we can sleep.”

“Goodnight Tom,” Harry muttered as he took off his glasses and placed them on his nightstand. He could swear he felt a strange touch on his forehead as Tom whispered, “Good night my prince.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

The next day Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing _“We’ll have a box of tissues ready, Potter”_ as he passed. It was a state of nervousness so advanced that he wondered whether he mightn’t just lose his head when they tried to lead him out to his dragon, and start trying to curse everyone in sight. The only saving grace was Tom. His beloved was always hanging over his shoulder, invisible to everyone but Harry. Harry closed his eyes and thought to himself as he talked with Tom. _Can’t you take over my body?_ Harry asked, _You can have full control and go face the dragon._

“Harry, believe me I will have full control of your sweet body,” Tom purred in his ear, “but not like this. No, I won’t take your conscious… only your love. But don’t worry my prince, I will be with you every step of the way.”

Harry smiled at Tom’s words and felt his ghostly hands on his shoulder. During the entire night Harry and Tom have done nothing but relax in his dreams as Harry slept. Professor McGonagall hurried towards Harry after lunch. “Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now. …You have to get ready for your first task.”

“Okay,” Harry said, standing up, his fork falling onto his plate with a clatter.

“Good luck, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You’ll be fine!”

“Yeah,” Harry said in a voice that was most unlike his own.

“Don’t talk like that prince,” Tom said in his ear. “My Harry is confident and my prince is strong.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry’s face.

He looked down Gryffindor Table and tried his best to keep the smile on his face as he searched for a certain redhead. He couldn’t find his friend anywhere and looked towards the Slytherin Table only to see a sea of scowls and another missing friend. “I am sure they are fine,” Tom said behind him. “For now let us focus on our first task.”

He left the Great Hall with Professor McGonagall. She didn’t seem herself either; in fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Now, don’t panic,” she said, “just keep a cool head. …We’ve got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand. …The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you. …Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Harry said feeling Tom inside him, “I’m fine.” _More than fine,_ he added.

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, harry saw that a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

“You’re to go in here with the other champions,” Professor McGonagall said in a rather shaky sort of voice, “and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there… he’ll be telling you the—the procedure. …Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Harry said in a flat, distant voice. She left him at the entrance of the tent. Harry went inside.

Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn’t look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard as though they had forgotten how to do it.

“Calm down Harry,” Tom said, his voice firm yet calm. “Sit down and breathe. Control your breath and listen to Bagman. He’s talking right now. Can you hear him? Listen to his words as you feel my presence.”

Harry felt a queer sense of relaxation and smiled as he felt Tom.

“…There are different—er—varieties, you see,” Bagman was speaking brightly. “And I have to tell you something else too …ah, yes… your task is to _collect the golden egg!_ ”

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman’s words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur and Krum hadn’t reacted at all. Perhaps they thought they might be sick if they opened their mouths; that was certainly how Harry felt despite Tom’s muttering in his ear. But they, at least, had volunteered for this. …

Bagman left the tent momentarily and soon Harry could hear hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking. …Harry felt as separated from the crowd as though they were a different species. The flap of the tent opened again and Harry saw the same Durmstrang student from before enter and walked up to Krum. Krum quickly pulled the smaller boy into his arms and kissed him with all his might, causing Fleur and Cedric to look away looking more red now than green.

“That is definitely what I was thinking of walking in here,” Harry heard a voice mutter behind him. He turned to see Ron standing looking sheepish. “Uhh… hey Harry. … How’re you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Harry said warily, confused on why Ron was here.

“Look, Harry—“Ron started. He stopped, looked around bashfully, and looked at Harry again. He adopted a serious look and said, “Whoever put your name in that goblet—I—I reckon they’re trying to do you in!”

It was as though the last few weeks had never happened—as thought Harry was meeting Ron for the first time, right after he’d been made champion.

“Caught on, have you?” Harry said coldly. “Took you long enough.”

Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Harry knew Ron was about to apologize and suddenly he found he didn’t need to hear it.

“It’s okay,” he said before Ron could get the words out. “Forget it.”

“No,” Ron said, “I shouldn’t’ve—“

“ _Forget it_ ,” Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back. Before Harry knew it they had their arms around each other and Harry was asking, “So what finally knocked sense into you?”

“Well… your uhh friend did,” Ron said. “That and Charlie! Did you know that you’re up against dragons—“

There was a bright flash that blinded Harry for a second. Bright balls of light dancing in his vision Harry and Ron looked around confused to see where the flash came from.

“Young forbidden love! How stirring. If everything goes unfortunate today, you two may even make the first page. Readers love something different.” Rita Skeeter said, a camera man holding the camera standing next to her.

“You don’t belong here,” grunted the voice of Viktor Krum. “This tent is only for champions, and friends.”

“Doesn’t matter, I have what I want,” Rita Skeeter smiled as she turned around and left the tent with the camera man.

Harry and Ron stared at each other. “So… erm… Malfoy, Malfoy told me,” Ron blurted out.

“Draco? He talked with you?” Harry asked. “When?”

“Uhh well yesterday,” Ron winced, his embarrassed look replaced with sheepishness again. “He uh… talked with me. For a long time.”

“Well, looks like I’ll have to thank him,” Harry smirked.

“Yeah… both of us,” Ron said.

“Fill in champions! Fill in!” Bagman marched in with a huge grin on his face. “The stands are full and the First Task is upon us!” Harry and Ron wordlessly said goodbye to each other as Ron slipped out of the tent. Bagman was holding an opened bag and held it out. “Well ladies first!”

Fleur put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a Welsh Green dragon. It had the number two around its neck. And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but a rather determined resignation, that he had been right: Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

“I would do the same if I was a headmaster,” Tom mused.

Harry snickered silently and turned his attention as Krum pulled out a Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn’t even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric was next. He pulled out the Swedish Short-Snout with the number one tied on its neck. Finally it was Harry’s turn. He pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

 _Figures,_ Harry thought to himself.

“Well , there you are!” Bagman said. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle.”

Harry tried to wish Cedric luck as Cedric moved out of the tent after Bagman hurried off but all that came out of Cedric’s mouth was a sort of hoarse grunt; his face looked greener than ever.

Seconds later he heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model. …

It was worse than Harry could ever have imagined, sitting there and listening. The crowd screamed… yelled… and gasped like a single many-headed entity, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the floor. Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric’s steps, around and around the tent. Tom was sitting next to Harry, invisible to all who isn’t Harry. Harry did his best to block out Bagman’s commentating, which only caused awful pictures in his head.

And then after fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon and captured the golden egg.

“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”

But he didn’t shout the marks. Harry supposed the judges were holding them up and showing them in the crowd.

“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled at the whistle. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”

Fleur was trembling from head to foot; Harry felt more warmly toward her than he had done so far as she left the tent with her head held high and her hand clutching her wand. He and Krum were left alone, at opposite sides of the tent, avoiding each other’s gaze. Harry wondered what Krum was thinking about.

“Perhaps he is thinking of that little Durmstrang student,” Tom said. “But that does not matter now. Close your eyes and tell me exactly how we will deal with the dragon.”

Harry took a breath and found his eyes slipping closed. The room escaping him, Harry slowly told Tom of what his plan was. Time started to slip past Harry and when he was finished he found himself feeling more confident, as if all of his nervousness was drained away. It felt like Tom’s hands were massaging him, holding him firmly as the hands move across his body, touching every inch and relaxing them under his command. Harry leaned into the ghostly touch and opened his eyes to see he was alone.

Applause shattered calming moment like breaking glass. Krum had finished—it would be Harry’s turn any moment.

“I am always here for you my prince,” Tom said calmingly as Harry stood. His legs quivered slightly but he felt Tom’s hands holding him steady as they walked together towards the enclosure. The whistle blew and they walked out of the entrance of the tent, past the trees, and through a gap in the enclosure fence.

He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very brightly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he’d last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

“Think of this beast as an unsophisticated basilisk Harry,” Tom said. “A want-to-be queen who can never dethrone the king of snakes. Raise your wand Harry! Cast it!”

“ _Accio Firebolt!_ ”

Harry waited, every fiber of him hoping, praying …If it hadn’t worked … if it wasn’t coming—“Focus Potter!” Tom snapped.

Harry looked at the dragon to see her extending her head into the air. “ _Protego!_ ” Harry yelled, only his voice did not sound like his own for a second there. A magical barrier surrounded Harry as the Horntail roared and fire erupted from her jaws. The flames surrounded Harry but never touched him, instead being deflected to the sides by the magical barrier that protected him. Bagman was yelling something but Harry did not hear it as instead he listened to the sound of his Firebolt hurtling toward him around the edge of the woods, soaring into the enclosure. “ _Aguamenti!_ ” Harry yelled in the same voice and the magical barrier disappeared as water gushed from Harry’s wand. The water combated the flames and pushed them back as the Firebolt stopped dead in midair beside him, waiting for him to mount. The crowd was making noise but Harry didn’t hear them. He kept his wand ridged as he mounted the Firebolt one-handed. Canceling the spell last second Harry soar into the air.

He felt the wind rushing through his hair, the crowd’s faces became mere flesh-colored pinpricks bellowed, and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog. He felt a sense of belonging as he smiled. This was just another Quidditch match. And the Horntail was just another ugly opposing team.

“Hit the dragon in the eye!” Tom yelled at him. “It does not matter what: a stunner, another _Aguamenti_ , even a damn Killing Curse just hit it in the eye!”

Harry looked down at the clutch of eggs and spotted the gold one, gleaming against its cement-colored fellows. “Okay,” Harry said. “I know what I’m doing.”

He dived. The Horntail’s head followed him; he knew what it was going to do and pulled out of his dive just in time; a jet of fire had been released exactly where he would have been had he not swerved away … but Harry didn’t care… that was no more than dodging a Bludger.

“Great Scot, he can fly!” Bagman yelled as the crowd shrieked and gasped. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?”

Harry soared higher in a circle; the Horntail was still following his progress; its head revolving on its long neck—if he kept this up, it would be nicely dizzy—but better not push it too long, or it would be breathing fire again—

Harry kept his eyes on the dragon’s eye. Holding his wand in one hand he dove again at the Horntail just as it opened its mouth. Before giving the dragon a chance Harry yelled “ _Aguamenti!_ ” and another stream of water burst from his wand and choked the giant lizard as it rushed down the dragon’s throat. The mouth closed immediately and Harry continued his dive. He knew he had only one chance to do this correctly or it would be all over.

“He’s going to crash into the dragon!” Bagman yelled.

Harry gritted his teeth as he got closer to the head. Ten meters. Eight meters. Harry pointed his wand. Six meters. Four meters. Harry was a meter away from the Horntail, his wand aimed directly at the dragon’s big evil yellow eye, and in that one split second he jabbed the wand, screaming something incoherent, and a jet of yellow light shot from Harry’s wand directly into the Horntail’s eye.

There was a horrible roar of pain as the Horntail recoiled. She moved away from the eggs, flames everywhere as she cried in pain, and Harry took his chance and continued his dive, going even faster than before. He was speeding towards the unprotected eggs, took his hands off of the Firebolt—he had seized the gold egg—

And with a huge spurt of speed, he was off, he was soaring out over the stands, the heavy egg safely under his arm, and it was as though somebody had just turned the volume back up—for the first time, he became properly aware of the noise of the crowd, which was screaming and applauding as loudly as the Irish supporters at the World Cup—

“Look at that!” Bagman was yelling. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! And he has not received a single injury on top of that! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”

Harry saw the dragon keepers rushing forward to subdue the Horntail, and over at the entrance to the enclosure, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid hurrying to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from the distance. But there was only one praise that he cared about.

He could feel Tom’s pleasure; feel Tom’s pride in him. “You have done wonderful Harry,” Tom said, a warm, loving sensation covering Harry. “I am so proud of you my prince. I really am.”

_Thank you Tom._

“That was excellent, Potter!” Professor McGonagall cried as Harry landed. “You will have to see Madam Pomfrey over there before the judges give out your score …Over there, she’s had to mop up Diggory already. …”

“Yeh did it Harry!” Hagrid said hoarsely. “Yeh did it! An’ agains’ the Horntail an’ all, an’ yeh know Charlie said that was the wors’—“

“Thanks Hagrid,” Harry said loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn’t blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons before.

Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket. “Nice and easy does the trick, Potter,” he growled. “Though I want to know. That spell you used on the dragon’s eye. Where’d you learn it? That’s a spell that no fourteen year old wizard should even know.”

“I uhh read it somewhere,” Harry lied quickly, “while looking for a spell.”

Moody grunted but said no more. Professor McGonagall escorted Harry to the first aid tent where Madam Pomfrey forced him to sit down even though he was uninjured.

Cedric was sitting next to him, though Harry could only see his shadow through the canvas. “That was amazing Harry,” Cedric said. “I honestly thought that nobody would do this task without getting hurt.”

“I guess I got lucky,” Harry admitted. He looked at Cedric’s shadow and said, “How… badly are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Cedric’s voice said. “I uhh got hit by some fire.”

“Heh,” Harry said softly, wincing at the hurt in Cedric’s voice. He could swear he could feel Cedric’s burns. Feeling restless and full of adrenaline Harry got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside.

“You’ve done a good job Harry,” Tom said, walking next to him. Harry smiled and looked over his shoulder.

“What was that spell? The one that I hit the dragon’s eye with?” he asked.

Tom chuckled and smirked. “That would have been my help,” he admitted. “The Conjunctivitis Curse. Do not get me wrong Harry, everything that you have done was by your power alone. I just decided to give my beloved prince some knowledge on certain spells.” Harry felt Tom’s ghostly body press against him, his lips slightly fazing through his ear. “I cannot wait for the day when I can touch you again Harry,” Tom whispered. “My lovely prince needs to be rewarded for the brilliant show you have provided.”

Harry blushed but smiled as he continued to slowly make his way to the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting—right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.

The first judge, Madame Maxime, raised her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

“And eight?” Tom sneered as the crowd applauded. “They dare to give my prince an eight?” Harry blushed but kept his focus on the judges.

Mr. Crouch was next. He shot a number nine into the air. Next was Dumbledore. Harry felt Tom’s anger towards the headmaster radiate inside of him as they both glared at the old man. Dumbledore too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

“Soon you foolish man,” Tom muttered more to himself than to Harry. He looked at Harry and said, “First we will focus on getting my body back. Then we will go after him.”

Harry just nodded, knowing that they will need to have a conversation about this later. Ludo Bagman flourished his wand and a bright ten shot into the air like fireworks.

“The score you deserve,” Tom said, letting a small smile grace his face.

Harry grinned as well and now it was Karkaroff’s time. “Let’s see if our traitor can score you properly,” Tom said.

He paused for a moment and then a number shot out of his wand too—four.

“What!?” Tom snarled furiously. “Four? How dare he!”

But Harry didn’t care, he wouldn’t care if Karkaroff had given him zero; he was alive. He was alive and was friends with Ron again. That was worth a hundred points on its own. Of course, Harry would never tell Ron that. He turned to leave the enclosure, the sound of the entire school cheering him on.

“You’re tied in first place, harry! You and Krum!” Charlie Weasley said, hurrying to meet him as he setted off back toward the school. Harry saw that man from last night was near him and Ron and Hermione were running up towards them. “Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve got to go and send Mum an owl. I swore I’d tell her what happened—but that was unbelievable! Oh! We need a better introduction but now Harry, this is Andrei. Andrei, Harry. I’m sorry but we have to run! Oh last thing, they told me you have to hang around for a few minutes… Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.”

Charlie and Andrei ran off and Harry told Ron and Hermione before they could start celebrating. Reentering the tent, which somehow looked quite different now: friendly and welcoming, Harry’s eyes immidately landed on Cedric. On one side of his face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably mending a burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him. “Good one, Harry!”

“And you,” Harry said grinning back at him. Cedric held his smile for a second too long as Bagman bounced in.

“Well done, all of you! Now, just a quick few words. You’ve got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth—but we’re giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you’re all holding, you will see that they open …see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg—because it will tell you what the second task it, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go then!”

Harry met up with Ron and Hermione and the three started walking back around the edge of the forest, talking hard; Harry wanted to hear what the other champions had done in detail. Meanwhile Tom followed them, invisible to all but Harry, lost in his own thoughts.

As they rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them. It was Rita Skeeter. “Congratulations Harry!” she said, beaming at him. “I wonder if you would give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel now, about the fairness of the scoring? How are you and your boyfriend going to celebrate?”

“I’ll give you a word,” Ron answered for Harry. “ _Sod off._ ”

And they set off back to the castle, Ron and Harry laughing as Hermione shook her head.

 

“Sod off? Really Weasley is that the best you can say?” Draco smirked. He was at the foot of the Owlery. Harry and Hermione were up there sending a letter.

Ron smirked and shrugged. “When did you hear that Malfoy?” he asked.

Draco smirked, staring at the beautiful green aura that lightly brushed Ron’s hair. “I have my ways Weasley. You and Harry are not the only ones holding secrets, you know.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” Ron asked, looking at Draco confused.

Draco just chuckled and shook his head. “Anyway, I’m glad that Harry is safe,” he continued. “It would be awful to lose my friend to a dragon. Especially since he has so much potential.”

“Huh?” Ron said, still confused by Draco’s words. “What you going on about Malfoy?” There was a small annoyance in Ron’s voice. “I said I would give you a chance, and that’s going quickly if you keep talking like that.”

“Sorry, that is just how I talk sometimes,” Draco shrugged. He looked around, his bottom lip between his teeth, and said, “You cannot know who is listening Ron. Especially with so many… foreigners around.”

“Foreigners?” Ron asked.

Draco nodded. “Yes, foreigners. The Durmstrang students, the Beauxbatons students… that reporter Skeeter. Don’t think I didn’t see her taking a picture of you and Harry, Ron,” Draco gave a little smirk, cocking his head to the side, “it makes me a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” Ron asked.

“Yes, jealous,” Draco said. Again he looked around, as if to make sure that no one is watching and sighed. He leaned against the wall of the Owlery Tower and looked at Ron. “Can I be honest with you… Ron?” he asked, all cockiness and arrogance absent in his voice.

Taken aback Ron just nodded. Draco’s head hung down for a moment and he kept quiet. A queer feeling growing inside him, Ron moved closer to Draco and leaned against the wall next to him. Draco looked up at him for a moment, his silver eyes shimmering. “I’ve got a letter from my father,” Draco began. “He… he doesn’t know that I like boys. He doesn’t know that I’m gay.”

Draco’s hands curled tight as his silver eyes shimmered even more. “Nobody does. Only you and Harry. I’m scared to tell anyone else… not even Zabini.”

“W-Why are you scared?” Ron asked, his voice waning.

“Zabini is bisexual,” Draco continued. “His mother doesn’t care about it but the others… they only tolerate it because he still has the chance… the choice of marrying the ‘right kind.’” He moved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. “I wanted to show this to Harry but I think it would take from his celebration. …Here, read it.”

Ron took the letter from Draco, a dark pit forming in his stomach as the queer feeling continued to grow deep within him. Flattening out the piece of paper, he read the letter.

_Draco,_

_As you might know the Yule Ball will be held at Hogwarts on December 24 th. Fourth years and older are allowed to attend, and, just like any formal social event, I am expecting you to attend. That ball will be a favorable opportunity to strengthen the connection between the Malfoy Family and the Greengrass Family. I must admit that the last few months I have been contemplating between which of the remaining Sacred Twenty-Eight would be best for the Malfoy Family to continue our name and prestige. The only available options for us, if we would want to be moral and stay in your age limit, would be Parkinson, Greengrass, and Bullstrode. While all three are not the best option, I have to say that the Bullstrode girl is rather hideous and any offspring would look too disgusting for a Malfoy, these are the ones that I have decided to choose from. There is also the Davis girl, but I believe that, due to her position as a Half-Blood, it would be a ghastly situation to put our family in as it would call to question our Loyalty._

_That left us with two choices, both of whom I am in good relations with the patriarchs of the families. The Parkinson Family seemed to be a reasonable choice at first. The daughter, Pansy Parkinson, is currently infatuated with you and her looks are currently above average, though I must admit that a son between you and Parkinson would have the chance to inherit her upturned nose and queer cheekbones: both qualities that can become disastrous when paired with our prominent features. Aesthetics aside, the Parkinson family owns several properties that have moderate success and ensures a steady flow of money into their vaults. They are respected among the proper channels and hold a small collection of Dark Artifacts that are worth all together at least a million Galleons. However, I have decided against the Parkinson family due to the aesthetic ugliness that your son will have, as well as recent scandals that involved Lord Parkinson and several goblins. It would be against our interest, Draco, to involve ourselves in that family at this time._

_That leaves us with the Greengrass family. Both girls are aesthetically pleasing, though there is concern with the width of Daphne’s and Astoria’s hips: they are too small for proper childbirth and Astoria, though only twelve, have signs of small breasts which will lead to poor milk production. However, their family, like the Parkinson, owns several businesses and properties that allows for a generous amount of steady income that would boaster the Malfoy Family name moderately. They, as any respectable Pure-Blooded Family should, own several Dark Artifacts that, when their values are added together, are worth approximately one million, ten thousand Galleons. Such a fortune would be only beneficial to our family. That, and I believe that any son between you and a Greengrass would only look aesthetically handsome._

_So with those in mind, I have begun talks with Lord Greengrass and he have agreed that you and one of his daughters would be a suitable match for marriage. Draco, you are to escort either Daphne or Astoria, it is your choice but I prefer Daphne her hips are wider and breasts bigger, to the Yule Ball where you will begin a courtship. Then, after a suitable amount of time after both you and Greengrass have graduated Hogwarts, you two will marry and produce an heir._

_I am proud to say that the future of the family is laid out and protected. You will not disappoint me Draco._

_Lucius Malfoy_

“What the fuck…” Ron muttered.

“Yeah,” Draco nodded. “What the fuck. I’m fourteen and already I’m supposed to think about marriage.”

“But there’s no way you’re actually doing this right?” Ron asked, lifting the letter, “It’s… it’s—“

“Atrocious? Insane?”

“Disgusting!” Ron yelled. “I mean—he thinks he can just do that? To you?”

“I’m his son,” Draco said, his silver eyes dulling as a frown developed. “I am Lucius Malfoy’s son. I have to do what he says.”

“Bull,” Ron said. Draco looked up in surprise. “You’re more than that Malfoy—Draco! You’re an annoying, slimy, arrogant, cunning, cowardly, rude, awful, handsome, gay, narcissistic, sarcastic, manipulative, pompous, witty, brilliant, mean, spoil, insecure, terrible, stuck-up, prick. You’re much more than just that asshole’s son Draco!”

“R—Ron…” Draco said, his cheeks blushing a deep red against his pale skin. He swallowed and asked, “W-where did you learn such language?”

“My brothers,” Ron said with a smirk. “You don’t live with five brothers and don’t pick up certain words. But Draco I’m serious when I say you’re much more than this asshole’s son! There’s no way you can just follow his orders unquestioningly!”

“What else is there Ron?” Draco challenged. “Since I was born my father planned my life. How I would grow up, who I would befriend… when I would join the Death Eaters. Don’t look at me like that! We both know my father’s a Death Eater.”

“You… don’t want to join the Death Eaters?” Ron asked. “But I thought you Slytherins were all about Dark Arts and evilness.”

Draco gave a deep chuckle. “Don’t get me wrong Ron. I practice the Dark Arts. At least, I am learning, I have a leaning towards them. But no I don’t want to join the Death Eaters… I don’t want to join my father.”

Ron was silent, he didn’t know what to say to Draco. Instead he just stared at the tall boy next to him and felt… sad. It was wrong what his dad was doing to Draco, but what could they do? He placed a cautious hand on Draco’s shoulder and under his touch Draco started crying. “I’m sick of it!” he cried out.

“Sick of my father telling me exactly what I’m doing! Sick of my damn mother just goes with it compliantly! I bet she’s even starting damn wedding plans for me and Greengrass! They tell and I do, they tell and I do and I can’t anymore! I’m gay Ron! Gay! But if I tell them that then you can bet that they’ll force potion after potion into me until I no longer find you—guys attractive! That’s what they do Ron, you should know this. That’s what they do to witches and wizards who do not follow heteronormativity. It happened before, it will happen again. Uncle Regulus—God! I can’t take it and I don’t know who to turn to. If I tell my friends in Slytherin, they’ll abandon me most likely. Zabini won’t but he’ll be separate.

“In other countries they might not give a shit but my father? England? We’re still in the Middle fucking Ages when it comes to this! We’re treated like an amusement Ron! You saw that disgusting woman taking a picture of you and Harry hugging! You can bet to see multiple articles about it. And when my father reads them, he will send me a letter full of his superior snobbery denouncing our kind and gloating of his plans of making homosexuals disappear and pairing it with his thankfulness that I am not like those degenerates. It’s frustrating Ron. I feel alone and I can’t have that. I cannot survive alone Ron. I know I look like a leader, like a person who knows he is superior but… I’m not.”

Draco continued to cry, his entire body shaking violently, his platinum hair disheveled and disgusting marks that should never even touch Draco’s face appeared. He looked like a pained animal howling in damnation, searching for a savior, a single beam of light but finding only darkness. Ron witnessed this pathetic sight and before he even knew what he was doing Ron took his arms and wrapped them around Draco, pulling the tall teen into him. Draco latched onto Ron, crying onto his shoulder. It was a bit awkward due to their height, Ron found that even though he is tall Draco had a couple of inches on him, but they both didn’t mind. They just stood there, the Slytherin crying and the Gryffindor holding him tight, ridged like a statue.

Ron hoped that Harry and Hermione would not catch them in this position, he didn’t want to let go of Draco, especially if he still has repressed emotions that needs to get out of him. Gently Ron moved so they were in the tower’s shadow, away from the Owlery entrance. “It’s okay,” Ron whispered, holding his friend as the deep feeling grew powerful, “let it out Draco… it’s okay.”

Draco held onto him and continued to cry. The sound of Harry and Hermione walking down from the Owlery came and went, the sound of their footsteps disappearing in the distance. Draco continued to cry and soon tears welled in Ron’s eyes as well before slipping away. “People are not like your dad,” he whispered. “There are good people… good parents who don’t care. Mum and Dad don’t care about Charlie, they adore his boyfriend… your parents, guys like them… they’re assholes. Don’t worry about them.”

“But I have to,” Draco continued to cry. “They’re my parents—if they find out they’ll take away who I am. I don’t want that.”

“Then… don’t let them,” Ron said. Draco looked at him, confused. “Look. We both know that… that I like the Dark Arts,” Ron admitted with a blush. “But that doesn’t mean that I want to be a murderous lunatic. I just want to learn… more. I know my parents hate the Dark Arts, that all of England hates it, but… I’ve decided… that I don’t care. I love my parents but I want to learn the Dark Arts. I just don’t know how…”

Draco looked at Ron. He stopped crying but his eyes were puffy and pink, cheeks stained with streaks of tears and flushed, nose inflamed. His voice shaking, Draco stood as tall as he could and said, “Ron, will you go to the Yule Ball with me? I don’t think I can rebel against my parents by myself… I know I can’t. I want to be who I am Ron and I feel that I can only do that with you with me. So please, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”

“Y-Yeah,” Ron said. “I can’t dance, but sure, yeah… I’ll go with you.” Both boys stared at each other, an awkward silence filling the space between them.

Draco shuffled on his feet before feeling his face. “I should clean up,” he muttered. Giving Ron a small smile he began to step away. “Thank you Ron. I needed to let it all out.”

“Anytime,” Ron said, his voice unusually high.

“And Ron? Don’t tell Harry. About any of this, okay? Let’s just keep this a secret between the two of us for now,” Draco added.

“Yeah… okay,” Ron nodded. He watched Draco leave the Owlery and waited five minutes before he too began to walk. The sun was beginning to set and by the time Ron made it to Gryffindor Tower, the night sky took over. He could hear the obvious sounds of celebration from the other side of the Fat Lady’s Portrait and practically barked the password. The portrait swung open and Ron was assaulted with noise and the smell of food.

Walking inside he mixed with the celebrating crowd and quickly found himself next to the mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butter beer where Harry and Hermione were. “Ron, there you are what happened? I thought you were going to wait outside,” Hermione said.

“I uhh met up with someone,” Ron said, his eyes darting to Harry. “We lost track of time.”

“Alright, well I’ve lettered Sir—Snuffles,” Harry said. Before Ron could reply, Fred and George grabbed Harry and the golden egg and lifted them both into the air.

“Open it! Open it! Open it!” The twins chanted, the rest of the House following suit. Ron found himself chanting also, though his merriment wasn’t as full as his housemates. Draco was still on his mind. He didn’t know why but he didn’t want to let go of Draco, he just wanted to hold the teen, to inhale his scent and just tell him that it will be okay… everything will be okay. If he closed his eyes, Ron could still feel Draco’s weight against his body—

The most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing filled the room. “Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears, George struggled to hold Harry by himself as Harry slammed it shut.

“What was that!?” Seamus Finnigan said, staring at the egg. “Sounded like a banshee…”

Ron just stared at Harry and the egg as the rest of the housemates theorized what Harry is going to be facing next. “Harry,” he said as George dropped him to the floor, “can you come with me? Quickly?”

“Sure Ron what’s up?” Harry asked. He placed the golden egg on the nearest table and followed Ron out of the common room, up the stairs, and into their dormitory. Ron didn’t know why he wanted to tell Harry this but felt like he couldn’t hide it. Not to Harry, not after they didn’t talk to each other in so long. “You said you wanted to talk with me Ron?” Harry said as the door closed behind him.

Ron paced a bit then looked at Harry. “I—I think… Harry, I might get into trouble for this but… I think I might be dating Draco.”

Harry smiled instantly. “That’s good,” he said. “I’m happy for you, both of you.”

“You mean you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be? You’re both my friends. And quite honestly I’m relieved,” Harry said. “Don’t fret about it Ron, seriously, I’m glad that you and Draco might be dating. …How did this start?”

“Well he uhh kind of ask me to a thing that we’re not supposed to know about yet,” Ron said. “But I’m sure they’ll tell us any day!”

“Any day? Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Still, if it works out then I’m more than happy for the both of you.”

Ron gave Harry a huge smile and rushed to hug him again. “Thank you Harry,” he whispered. “Believe it or not today’s been… emotional. …Think I’ll head to bed.”

“Same,” Harry said. The two dressed into their pajamas in relative silence. The noise of Gryffindor’s celebration barely penetrated the fourth year’s dormitory as Harry and Ron slipped into their beds and fell asleep.

 

“You have done well Harry,” Tom praised. They were in Tom’s throne, Harry sitting comfortably on Tom’s lap like a little puppy or kitten. “The way you have handled the dragon is extraordinary, I couldn’t be happier to call you my prince.”

“Thank you Tom,” Harry said softly. He leaned up to kiss the teen’s cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.

“And I, you my beloved prince,” Tom said. “This is why… this is why I believe I should tell you this.”

“What is it?”

“Another Horcrux,” Tom said. “I believe with each piece of my soul that I absorb the more powerful and whole I will become. I theorize that if I absorb enough of my soul… then I can hold a physical form for a few days. I will still need to retreat to our dairy, but even then I will do anything to touch you for a few days my prince.” He moved his hand to Harry’s face, holding his chin as his thumb rested on Harry’s bottom lip.

“And I would do anything for that too Tom,” Harry breathed. Tom smiled as Harry’s tongue darted out to touch his thumb.

“My innocent prince,” Tom murmured. “There is so much I need to teach you, so many promises I need to uphold for you.” Harry smiled and rested his head against Tom’s chest. He was in utter bliss under Tom’s touch. “But we will have time for that, we will have all the time in the world. But even with that much time, I do not think it is possible to show you how you affect me, my sweet prince.”

“I love you Tom,” Harry said again.

“I love you too Harry, though I’m afraid,” Tom said.

“Afraid?” Harry asked sitting up. “Tom, you’re the most powerful wizard I know. What do you have to be afraid of?”

“Losing you,” Tom said. “I’ve told you my love, you are the third person I’ve fell in love with. I do not think I can handle losing you.”

“You won’t,” Harry said. He took Tom’s hand on his chin and lifted it to his scar. Pressing Tom’s palm against the scar, Harry ignored the pain as he said “We’re connected Tom. You will never lose me, I’m yours… forever.”

“Forever,” Tom repeated. He took Harry’s hand in his own and brought it to his lips, kissing them. “That is right Harry Potter. You are mine. You are mine from the moment I’ve marked you with that scar, and you are mine ever since you have touched our diary. And because of that, it grieves me to tell you that I will be leaving soon.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes, but do not worry my little prince, I will not be as long as last time,” Tom said. “Last time I was cautious, I had to make sure that that husk did not sense me. This time I do not have to be so wary.”

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

“Another Horcrux,” Tom said. “I’m going to retrieve another piece of my soul. And maybe, I’ll be able to retrieve an ancient heirloom lost to the ages.”

Harry nodded and rested his head on Tom’s chest again. His voice sad, he said, “Can you leave in the morning?”

“Of course Harry,” Tom said, wrapping his arms around the boy. “Tonight is for us, and us alone. So relax… listen to my voice… and let the day’s worry slip away under my touch. Let your stress bleed out, let your fears fade away… all that matters is that you love me, and I love you.”

“Tom…” Harry said meekly, a comfortable haze filling him as he did as Tom told him. His body relaxed, his dick started to harden but never erected. Everything was in a comfortable, happy daze as if Harry was floating on a fluffy cloud. Lying on that cloud, Harry reached out for Tom, felt his hand, felt his body, naked skin touching naked skin. Harry barely realized that both he and Tom weren’t wearing clothes but he didn’t care for right now they were together, far away from their worries. And all was right in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter VIII**

As Harry expected when he woke up Tom was gone. He didn’t feel his boyfriend’s presence anywhere, and as always the diary seemed to burn warm under his touch but Harry couldn’t open it. However unlike last time Harry wasn’t worried. He knew where Tom was, he know what the boy he loved was doing. And he loved him even more for doing so. So he woke up feeling not sad but excited. He couldn’t wait for Tom to come back!

That morning there was a picture of Harry and Ron hugging on the front of the Daily Prophet with the caption “Harry Potter’s Secret Romance!”

_It seems nerves as well as love cannot escape the youngest Triwizard Champion as Harry Potter was spotted hugging Ronald Wesley inside the champion’s tent early yesterday. Ronald Wesley, whose father works as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office (an office that many witches and wizards wonder if necessary), is known throughout the school as a plain freckled lanky redhead who is always under Harry’s shadow. While this bubbling romance takes Hogwarts by storm we have to ask why. Why is it that Harry Potter, who is no doubt the most popular student at Hogwarts now by being Hogwarts’ Champion, chose Ronald Wesley when he could have fallen for any female in Hogwarts? What is it about Mr. Wesley that made Harry fall into dangerous territory?_

_When asked for further information both Harry and Wesley refused to comment, but due to the integrity of a Daily Prophet reporter their secrets are about to be exclusively revealed. It is clear that Ronald Wesley holds romantic feelings towards Harry, but can it be possible for Harry to hold the same? When asked this question an anonymous student has this to say, “There is no way those two are p***s. P***s are annoying little things and Potter and Wesley? They’re too annoying attention-seeking to be that.”_

_While the anonymous student has some negative attitudes that draw from a wasted potential others were actually not very surprised at the news. Colin Creevey, a third year Gryffindor, says that “Ron and Harry are always around each other. It’s impossible to see one without the other.” Well with friendships this close it is simply impossible for the two not to fall into a romance, but that only occurs when one of them is a girl. But when they’re both boys? It’s highly improbably and yet Harry and Ronald Wesley shows that it is possible._

_Could this be a turning point in Hogwarts? Could we be seeing an influx of more people like Harry and Ron? Or is this just a one-time thing that will end with both of them returning to normal? Only time can tell and this Daily Prophet reporter will be capturing every step of the romance between Harry Potter and Ronald Wesley._

Harry almost choked on his pumpkin juice while reading the article. Sputtering to catch his breath, Harry looked around the Great Hall to see if anyone else was reading. But he didn’t feel embarrassed, or angry, or even mortified. No his excitement to see Tom again when he returns was too great to let Skeeter’s article bring him down. So instead of being embarrassed like the school expected him to be, Harry had a laugh. He snickered and smirked and giggled as he read the article, a goofy smile appearing on his face.

“What you so happy about?” Ron asked as he sat down next to Harry. Still in a laughing daze, Harry handed Ron the newspaper and said, “It’s hilarious, really!”

Confused Ron took the newspaper and looked at the front page. His eyes grew wide with panic and looked at Harry. “But we’re not dating!” he said quickly.” Dr—he and I are!”

“I know,” Harry smiled. “But still you have to admit that it’s funny. Look! They’ve even misspelled your name numerous times.”

“’Ronald Wesley?’ How can you mess up that bad?” Ron groaned. “Just add the damn ‘a!’”

Harry giggled and said, “She thinks that we’re going to cause an influx of people like us when there’s only… what six that I know.”

“Six?” Ron asked. Counting on his fingers he said, “You… me… Draco… uhh that’s only three.”

“Krum, whatever is the name of that frail-looking boy he’s dating, and my boyfriend,” Harry finished.

“Boyfriend!?” Ron said loudly. The nearby Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs stopped and turned to stare at them. Ron lowered his voice dramatically. “You have a boyfriend?” he asked again.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry nodded, speaking in the same soft tone as Ron. “His name is Tom.”

“Tom? I don’t think I know any students named Tom,” Ron frowned. Harry blushed and looked away. “He… likes to keep to himself mostly,” Harry admitted. “We’ve met in our second year and uh didn’t really start dating till a month ago…”

“Where is he? I have to speak with him then,” Ron said. “My best friend dating a guy since second year and I haven’t even heard of him? That’s not right.”

“He’s not here right now,” Harry said. “He likes to sleep late.”

“Oh, okay,” Ron said. “Then I’ll have to meet him later…”

“Yeah… sure,” Harry said.

But Tom did not return instantly. The start of December came, and with it, it brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter, harry was glad of its fire and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime’s horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey: the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. They were still working on the Blast-Ended Skrewts. There was only ten left and the class was supposed to check if they hibernate.

They don’t as Harry soon found out. His mind still on Tom, Harry almost got trampled over as a skrewt got loose. He, Ron, and Hermione were one of the few students who helped Hagrid got the creatures under control. As soon as the creatures were under control the students spread out, Harry saw Ron and Draco moving to a secluded tree to talk, out of view from everyone. Much to his horror he saw Rita Skeeter near Hagrid’s hut. She started to talk with Hagrid and Harry’s stomach sink as he watched the vile woman roped Hagrid into an interview.

“She’ll twist everything he says,” Harry said under his breath.

“Just as long as he didn’t import those skrewts illegally or anything,” Hermione said desperately. They looked at one another—it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do.

“Well he’s been in trouble before yeah…?” Harry said uncertainly. “And Dumbledore never fired him so hopefully…”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. She looked around and frowned, “Have you seen Ron?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t,” Harry lied. Ron was late for double Divination, but from the grin on his face Harry assumed that something good must have happened. “What happened?” he whispered as Ron sat down.

The redhead looked to his left and right, making sure nobody was listening, and leaned in. “He kissed me! Draco and I kissed.”

“Woah… that’s quick,” Harry said.

“As if. I bet you and Tom snogged enough in your second year!” Ron whispered accusingly, a playful grin on his face. Harry’s face heated up, remembering the kiss Tom gave him in the Chamber of Secrets. “Ha! I knew it!” Ron snickered triumphantly.

Harry gave him no reply as he replayed their kiss in the Chamber of Secrets, feeling suddenly nostalgic and needing. He spent the entire divination class replying every kiss, every touch, every lustful move Tom and Harry shared. By the end of the class Harry was embarrassed to realize that his dick was hard and leaking.

Harry’s mind was full of thoughts of Tom as he floated through the week. On Thursday Harry and Ron were anxious to leave as Professor McGonagall snapped, “Potter! Weasley! _Will you pay attention?_ ”

They were in Transfiguration Class and Harry and Ron were sword fighting with trick wands. “Now that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley had decided to act their age,” Professor McGonagall said, with an angry look at the pair of them as trick wands fell silently to the ground, “I have something to say to you all.

“The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now the ball will open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—“

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked around at Harry. Professor McGonagall ignored them, which Harry thought was distinctly unfair, as she had just told off him and Ron.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Professor McGonagall continued, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then—“

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.

“The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to—er—let our hair down,” she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound.

“But that does NOT mean,” Professor McGonagall went on, “that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.

Professor McGonagall called above the noise, “Potter—a word, if you please.” Harry stayed behind and proceeded gloomily to the teacher’s desk. “Potter, the champions and their partners traditionally open the ball.”

“I don’t dance,” Hary said, his face going red.

“Yes you do,” Professor McGonagall said. “It is traditional. You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter.”

“But—I don’t—“

“You heard me Potter,” Professor McGonagall said in a very final sort of way.

When Harry caught up with Ron he was grinning. “I can’t dance,” Ron said. “Like I have three left feet in that matter, but I can’t believe I’m saying that I think I’m excited for it.”

“So you and Draco are going together?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “That’s actually how uh started dating, you know? Draco told me about the ball and asked me to it.”

“Wow congrats mate,” Harry smiled.

“Thanks. And you’re going to go with Tom right?” Ron asked expectedly.

“Ohh umm,” Harry said, his eyes looking everywhere but at Ron. “Tom’s very secretive and… he doesn’t like crowds,” he lied.

Ron frowned. “That’s too bad I was thinking of finally meeting him there. You know, since you wouldn’t bring me to him.”

Guilt overflew Harry. “I’ll ask… Champions are required to open the ball… so we just have to dance once right? I’ll—I’ll see what he says.”

“And who are you talking about Ronald Wesley?” Draco’s voice smirked. Ron jumped and turned to see Draco walking towards him. When they were close Ron pulled Draco towards him and kissed him, Ron’s head arched upwards to reach Draco’s lips. “Hello to you too,” Draco sighed.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” Ron groaned.

“Why not? How was I supposed to know that our best friend is dating a handsomely delicious redhead named Ronald Wesley?” Draco growled. Harry’s cheeks burned a violent red as if he was witnessing something he shouldn’t.

“I told you not to call me that,” Ron groaned again clearly embarrassed by the name.

“Why not?” Draco chuckled. “Especially considering your mother’s latest letter where she ranted on her rage against Skeeter. ‘Missing a bloody ‘A’ how dare that woman! How hard is it to spell our last name?’ were her words I believe. Then of course there were her words about you and Harry dating,” Draco turned to Harry and said, “She’s especially disappointed in you that you didn’t tell her straight away Harry.”

“R-Really,” Harry stuttered, at a loss of what to do.

“Yes,” Draco chuckled. He turned back to his boyfriend and said, “So Ron, when will you tell your dear mother that Ronald Wesley is dating Draco Malfoy and not our best friend Harry?”

“I was uhh… going to do that… later,” Ron said, his cheeks flushed. “You know… _after_ the ball.”

Draco’s cheeks turned red and Harry could have sworn he saw the normal arrogance and superiority leave Draco for a moment before coming back again. “Yeah… of course,” Draco said softly.

“Don’t worry babe, it’ll be fine,” Ron smiled. He looked at Harry and bit his lip. “Harry… can Draco and I have a little time together?”

“Yeah, sure… I’ll see you both later,” Harry said.

Ron and Draco watched him leave and Ron turned to Draco. “What’s the matter Dray? Did your dad send you another letter?”

“No he didn’t,” Draco said. “It’s just the situation, I’ve just been thinking about it recently and I’m worried about how your parents will react considering who I am.”

“Really? I’m more worried about your parents,” Ron said. “Your dad and mom will be very angry but… I’m sure my parents won’t mind. We just have to keep the dark magic a secret.”

“Of course,” Draco chuckled. “Speaking of that, come on. There’s an empty classroom down the hall we can use.”

“Yes sir,” Ron chuckled as Draco grabbed his hand and led him into the empty classroom. The Slytherin locked the door behind them shut and turned to Ron. “So what are we doing today?” Ron asked.

Draco smirked and stood his full height. “What do you want to learn Ron?” he breathed.

“To learn Dark Magic,” Ron replied, smiling at the small game he and Draco were playing, “from the handsome Slytherin in front of me.”

“Good answer,” Draco smirked. “Today we’re going to… let’s see… how about a more powerful version of the Stunner?”

“How is that Dark Magic?” Ron asked.

“It stops the heart for a second,” Draco explained. “You don’t need to aim for the heart directly, just at the target’s body. As soon as the spell hits the victim’s heart skips a beat, stopping for a second before beginning again. This causes the victim to pass out and stay unconscious for a longer time than a regular stunner does. You can see why the Ministry labeled it ‘Dark Magic.’”

“Yeah I can,” Harry said, looking excited to try the spell. “How do I cast it?”

Draco smirked and waved his wand; the desks around them transfigured into featureless dummies. Aiming his wand at one of the dummies he said, “ _Cordisto!_ ” A light-blue jet erupted from Draco’s wand and hit the dummy in the stomach. The dummy’s arms move quickly to its chest where its heart would be before collapsing. Draco turned back to Ron and kissed his nose. “ _Cordisto_. Cor-dis-to,” Draco sounded out.

“Cordisto,” Ron repeated.

“Good,” Draco smiled. He looked at the remaining dummies, there were six of them, and said, “Ron. Hit each and every one with the Heart Stopping Curse.”

“Yes sir,” Ron smiled. Taking his wand out he aimed it at the nearest dummy and yelled, “ _Cordisto!_ ” A satisfying rush filled Ron as he felt his power surge through the wand and the same light blue jet of light shot from his wand and made contact with the dummy. The dummy fell the ground, it’s hand grasping at its chest.

“Great job Ron! Five more,” Draco cheered.

Ron nodded and moved his want at the next dummy. “ _Cordisto!_ ” he yelled, the same rush filling him again. The second dummy fell.

“Four more Ron.”

“ _Cordisto!_ ”

“Three more! You can do it Ron baby.”

“ _Cordisto! Cordisto! Cordisto!_ ” Ron yelled in rapid succession, The three last dummies all fell down, each having a hand on its heart and each having a painful look on their featureless face.

“Brilliant!” Draco screamed. He jumped off of his desk and pulled Ron into a powerful kiss. Ron, still feeling high from the surge of power his spells gave him, quickly took control and held Draco close to him, his tongue darting out to taste Draco’s lips. They didn’t get very far but stood there kissing, Ron in total control. “That was… amazing,” Draco huffed both he and Ron’s cheeks were flushed and both were out of breath.

“Yeah it was,” Ron breathed. They both smiled at each other, their foreheads touching as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Draco’s eyes shimmered with happiness, the silver dancing as he looked into Ron’s blue eyes seeing the power that the Dark Arts gave him. Draco moaned as he watched Ron’s emerald Aura grow, slowly devouring the golden hue until it’s emerald beauty only remained.

“You’re beautiful,” Draco whispered.

“So are you,” Ron said with a lazy smile. “I never thought I’d find anyone like you, anyone to be as comfortable to be around with like you… it’s scary.”

“I know it is,” Draco whispered. “But it feels great too. Come on, Harry is probably worried about it.”

“Alright but first,” Ron growled, his voice going deep. _Looks like somebody just hit puberty,_ Draco couldn’t help but think as Ron took his lips again, devouring them as his kisses became sloppy and aggressive.

The kiss left them both breathless but very satisfied. “Come on,” Draco said, seeing the power in Ron’s eyes settling down. It was now his turn to take control. Holding Ron’s hands he led the redhead out of the classroom and refused to let go until they’ve reached the Portrait of the Fat Lady. “So this is where your common room is,” Draco smirked. “I might have to pay you a visit at night.”

“Do that and I’m never letting you go,” Ron replied.

Draco laughed and kissed Ron again. “I’ll see you tomorrow… Ronald Wesley.” He left laughing as Ron glared at him.

 

Harry noticed that there was more students than normal putting their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas; he always did, of course, because the alternative was usually going back to Private Drive, but he had always been very much in the minority before now. Every fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Harry to be obsessed with the coming ball—or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he had never quite notice them before. Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night. “Thank God I’m gay,” Harry found himself saying multiple times.

“And I am very fortunate of that,” a familiar voice chuckled. Harry turned in the corridor to see Tom Riddle standing in front of him. “Tom!” He cried out hugging the teen.

“Hello Harry,” Tom smirked. “Oh how I’ve missed having my prince in my arms. Were you a good boy while I was away?”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Where were you Tom?”

Harry noticed that Tom looked more real than ever before. He couldn’t see through Tom’s body, which stood tall and firm in his Slytherin robes. “What happened?” he gasped.

“In short I have gained my physical body again, though these are only temporary. It is tiring and I can expect to be back in my diary for a few days afterwards,” Tom said. “But I wanted to hold my prince, and kiss him like the good prince he is.” Tom pulled Harry into a kiss, Harry’s feet lifting off of the ground as Tom shown strength Harry never knew he had. Harry giggled into the kiss and looked around. They were in the corridors, alone.

“We need to go somewhere private,” Harry said. “I want to hear everything!”

Tom chuckled at Harry’s excitement as the small boy pulled in down the corridor. They’ve turned the corner and slipped into a nearby room, which turned to be a rather spacious broom cupboard with a window. “Tell me everything,” Harry said.

Tom chuckled and took Harry’s wand from out of his pocket. “First, my love, I think we will need some better furniture.” With a flick two ornate armchairs appeared behind each one and they’ve sat. Tom returned Harry his wand and leaned back in chair smirking mirthfully.

“I’ve decided,” Tom began, “to play it a little risky and gather the second Horcrux I’ve created. It is the second largest piece of my soul that is currently not myself. This was risky, Harry, because of where the Horcrux was located.”

“Where was that?”

“Across the street from the husk,” Tom said casually.

“What?”

“Let me explain,” Tom smiled. “The husk is residing in Riddle manor, the home and property of my muggle father and grandparents. Disgusting pigs they were. But across the road, dilapidated and lost to time was a hut that homed the last descendents of the Gaunt Family. They are a pureblood family who descends from Salazar Slytherin himself and Cadmus Peverell if you believe the tales,” Tom chuckled. Harry looked lost at the mention of Cadmus Peverell so Tom shook his head and said, “I’ll explain him another day Harry as I’ve recently learned this information, Cadmus and his family are not important now. What is important is that the Gaunt Family was the last pure-blood family with a direct line from Slytherin.

“Three people lived in that hut long ago: my grandfather Marvolo, my uncle Morfin and my mother Merope. Now when I first went to the hut, only my uncle survived. My mother died a little after I was born, leaving me an orphan… just like you Harry. It should be obvious but my father’s family hated the fact that I existed. Now this happened while I was still at Hogwarts, you see, I want to say this was before my sixth year… in the summer of ’43, yes sixth year for that was when I’ve asked old Slughorn about… never mind, moving on.

“I went to Gaunt Hut to learn about my family. There I’ve saw Morfin who was far from impressive. He looked more like a crazed hermit who last sanity long ago than a distinguished descendant of Slytherin. He was actually going to kill me with a knife,” Tom chuckled and shook his head. “It was all a rather foolishly entertaining sight: the drunken hermit threatening me with a knife that lost its edge long ago. But I’ve talked with him in the sacred tongue and he revealed everything to me. Everything about my mother, my father… my half-blood status. At the time I was furious, I wanted revenge against my father and his family both for his blood and for leaving me. So using my own wand I’ve stunned Morfin with a spell I’ll teach you later on, took his wand, and visited the Riddle Manor.”

Tom stopped for a moment and looked at Harry. “I can skip some parts if you want Harry… I don’t want you to listen to things you are not ready for.”

Taking a shaky breath Harry shook his head. “No, continue,” he said. “I…I need to hear everything.”

“Very well love, but tell me when you want me to stop,” Tom said. Harry was quiet but nodded. “Promise me Harry, let me hear it.”

“I’ll tell you when to stop, if it becomes too much,” Harry said.

“Thank you,” Tom smiled. “Let’s continue. After I’ve gotten the information from my uncle, I’ve decided to give my father and grandparents a visit. Stealing Morfin’s wand I’ve sneaked my want towards and into the Riddle Manor. I found them in the drawing room. My father was drinking and reading a dreadfully boring looking book while my grandparents sat. My father was the first to die. I’ve stood in the shadows, watching them for some time. I’ve watched as my father took a sip of his drink, turned the page, paused as he read, and then another sip and another page turned. Fifteen minutes I’ve stood there. Then I’ve stepped out of the shadows, aimed Morfin’s wand at my father and killed him then and there. He never knew I was there. My grandparents tried to run away, they’ve struggled to stand from their chairs, my grandfather fell onto the floor and he was next. My grandmother fell soon after that. Three Killing Curses and all that was left were three bodies.

“My revenge sated I’ve returned back to Morfin and altered his memory. I also took something else. This,” Tom pulled out a ring from his pocket. It was a gold ring with a black stone engraved with some sort of heirloom. It looked like a triangle split down the middle by a single line and a circle inside the triangle. “is my second Horcrux, Harry. I’ve worn it in my final years at Hogwarts before I turned it into my Horcrux after the diary. I have used the murder of my father to turn the ring into a Horcrux a year later. And the hiding place? Why none other than the House of Gaunt itself. Morfin was dead at that point. He believed that he was the killer and was sent to Azkaban where he soon died. So with no one knowing of the house’s existence, I’ve hid the ring under the floorboard with a multitude of protection charms and curses.

“Now let us fast forward to the day I’ve left. It took me a few days to reach the Horcrux and a few more to get past my defenses. When I was in the Horcrux I’ve found something… interesting. Something that I had no idea existed, something that I need to research on after I’ve regained the body.”

“What is it?” Harry asked excitedly.

“The stone,” Tom said, his finger swiping the black stone on the ring gently. “It is not just a normal jewel it’s something else… something more… what I cannot say for sure but for now the important part is the piece of soul that resided inside here. The second biggest soul it gave me a little trouble, but I’ve quickly took control of it and the piece reconnected with me.”

“So now you have three pieces,” Harry smiled.

“Yes my love, four if we are to count the small piece of my soul that resides in you,” Tom smiled. Harry smiled in return and leaned forward toward Tom, their faces only inches apart.

“What happened next?” he asked.

“I appeared,” Tom said. “I was no ghostly projection: I had a body. I was, for a moment, flesh and blood again. It was the most wonderful feeling I have felt. With the piece of your soul you’ve given me throughout the years and the pieces of soul from my Horcruxes I’ve had enough energy to have a body again! It was so invigorating Harry, you should have seen me…” Tom had a faint smile, his eyes closed as he shook his head blissfully. “Anyway I knew that my body will be temporary, like it was that Christmas last year, so I had to move quickly. Pocketing the ring I had to look for the nearest wizarding home. Luckily there was always at least one wizarding family in Little Hangleton. In this case: a muggleborn and his wife. They were both sleeping and had a little tin of floo powder resting on the fireplace mantel. I’ve took the floo powder and travelled to the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. There is a secluded room with a fireplace and bed that I’ve frequented with, well, those who I loved before you and I was lucky to see that it was still there.

“From there it was a simple manner of blending into the crowd, slipping out the door, and making my way here through one of the secret tunnels that the Marauder’s Map show,” Tom finished his story.

“I’m happy you’re here Tom,” Harry smiled. “And I’m glad that… that you were successful.” Harry moved his hand and rested it on Tom’s cheek. Smiling just at the act of touching his loved one, Harry closed the distance between them. “I can touch you now,” Harry whispered.

Tom’s hand moved to Harry’s and rested on top of it. “And I can touch you.”

Harry’s cheeks became crimson. “Tom? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course Harry,” Tom said. “What do you need, my prince?”

The crimson on Harry’s cheeks spread across his face as he looked at the perfectly smooth skin of Tom’s face. “Tom, as a Triwizard Tournament I have to open the ball… and, because it’s a ball… I need a date. So Tom, will you go to the ball with me?”

Tom smirked and grabbed Harry’s waist. He pulled the smaller boy onto his lap and kissed him openly. “Of course my love! I would be honored being your date.”

“Tom! Thank you,” Harry said, the feeling of a terrible pressure lifting from his shoulders. He hugged the boy and whispered, “We can show Dumbledore our power that… he hasn’t seen your face in fifty years. You will be right under his nose and he’ll be none the wiser.”

“My little prince,” Tom chuckled. “I’ve taught you well.” He kissed Harry fully and they both smiled. “It seems that I’ll need some dress robes,” Tom mused. “As well as energy. I can already feel my powers draining from my travel. I need sleep, but I’ll be ready for this ball. When is it?”

“Christmas Day,” Harry said. “It’s the Yule Ball.”

“I’ll be there,” Tom smiled. He kissed Harry again and said, “Harry, I am entirely sincere when I say I love you, and I thank you for everything that you have done.”

“I love you too Tom,” Harry said. “And don’t mention it. Like you always say, I belong to you.”

“Only as much as you belong to me, my prince,” Tom smiled. “Come on, let’s get out of this cupboard.” They both stood and Tom borrowed Harry’s wand again. With a flick the chairs they were sitting in were gone; all that left were overturn buckets and mops. Giving Harry his wand Tom slipped Harry’s hand into his and they left hand-in-hand out of the cupboard and into the corridor, the couple blending into the crowd; the gold ring shining on Harry’s finger.

 

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn’t believe half of them—for instance, that Dumbledore had brought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were Harry didn’t know, never having had access to a wizard’s wireless, but he deduced from the wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) that they were a very famous musical group.

As Tom had said, he needed sleep. The diary, which still never left Harry’s side, was radiating with a small heat that cooled and increased rhythmically as if it was Tom’s deep breathing as he slept. Tom did not even meet Harry during his dreams in the white room. In the few times that Harry found himself in that room again he was alone and decided to continue on his lessons by himself, bent down over the table that they used for his Logic and strategy lessons, unbuttoning one button of his shirt for every time he failed.

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Harry noticed that they were the most stunning he had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase; the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. Harry noticed that the Gryffindor boys were getting nervous as the Yule Ball came closer. Neville was a shaking bundle of nerves, Dean and Seamus didn’t seem like they could sleep… it seemed that only Ron and Harry were the only fourth year boys who weren’t nervous about the Yule Ball. Dating wise at least.

Before Harry knew it the term had ended. And even though he was given a heavy workload, he was in no mood to work. Tom was still sleeping in the diary and surprisingly a package came for Harry two days before Christmas Eve. Confused Harry moved to open the package then and there at the Great Hall but Ron stopped him.

“Uhh that’s supposed to be for your boyfriend,” Ron whispered. “Draco said that uh Tom didn’t dress robes and he didn’t want Tom to know that he brought them for him so… now you can give him.”

“Wow… thanks Ron,” Harry smiled. “I’ll be sure to get this to Tom! And send my thanks to Draco as well.”

“Of course,” Ron smiled, his eyes drifting towards the Slytherin Table. Harry looked towards the Slytherin table as well, his mind drifting towards Tom. He couldn’t wait for the Yule Ball, he couldn’t wait to hold Tom again, to dance with him, to be near him, to be seen with him. … Fingering the ring on his hand Harry’s eyes drifted from the Slytherin Table towards the staff table where Dumbledore sat. Most of all Harry couldn’t wait for the ball just to show Dumbledore how far Harry has developed in the Dark Arts, and to show the old man a preview of his downfall.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Harry awoke to Christmas day with a pile of presents. On top of the small pile of presents was a letter from Sirius.

_Harry,_

_Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitus Curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point but your way was better, I’m impressed._

_Don’t get complacent, though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open—particularly when the person we discussed is around—and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble._

_Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual._

_Happy Christmas_

_Sirius_

The other boys were all awake and tackling their own pile of presents as Harry grabbed his glasses and read Sirius’s letter. Putting it to the side Harry looked at the small packaging that the letter was attached to, which turned out to be a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot. There was a single tissue from the Dursleys, an all-time low as Harry supposed they too were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee Fred and George gave Dudley during the summer. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favorites: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, also, of course, Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it—Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail) and a large quantity of homemade mince pies. Most surprising, however, was that Harry got a present from Draco, which included a letter.

_Harry,_

_I forgot to give you a present last year so I hope this makes up for it._

_Draco._

Harry was confused as he looked at the perfectly wrapped presents. Make up for last year? Harry could barely remember Christmas last year: only the kiss between himself and Tom and the Firebolt Sirius gave him. Curious, Harry opened the present to see two non-descriptive books and a note saying “Read in bed.” That only got Harry even more confused but placed the two books on top of his pillow.

Reaching underneath the pillow he felt the heat from Tom’s diary. It felt hotter than before; it felt like touching flushed skin and a shiver ran down Harry’s spine awakening all of his nerves. Harry had to bit his lip as a moan tried to escape his small mouth. Quickly pocketing it Harry went about his day.

Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage’s Wizarding Crackers.

At seven o’clock the male Gryffindors trooped back to Gryffindor Tower to get ready for the ball. Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their dormitory, all of them looking very self-conscious. Harry looked over at Ron as he changed and noticed something odd. “Where’s the one your mum got you?” he asked.

“Ohh uh that,” Ron said blushing brightly as he changed into a dark red dress robes. “ _He_ saw them a couple of weeks ago, he forced me I swear, and well he laughed.”

“He did?” Harry snickered, in his mind an image of Draco doubling over at the antique dress robes Mrs. Weasley gave Ron at the beginning of term.

“Yeah,” Ron said, his face as red as the dark velvet of his new robes. “And uhh after he was done laughing… mum’s going to kill me,” he muttered the last part, “he destroyed them. And told me he would buy new ones and… these are them.”

“Huh…” Harry said, looking at Ron. He had to admit that the new dress robes are an infinite improvement over the old robes that used to belong to Mr. Weasley. However, he agreed with Ron in that Mrs. Weasley would probably hurt both Ron and Draco when she finds out. Harry turned to focusing on his own dress robes, a dark green color that matched his eyes (Harry made a note to thank Mrs. Weasley who brought them) with a white button down shirt, no tie.

“You guys still didn’t tell us who you’re going with,” Dean said.

“We didn’t?” Harry said.

“Yeah! We thought you would be going with each other cause of that article but you don’t act like a couple,” Seamus said. “So come on, who are the girls?”

“Girls… Seamus you know that we are gay right?” Harry asked. “And we’re bringing boys.” Ron nodded in agreement.

Seamus and Dean stared at Ron and Harry for a moment before turning towards each other. Dean mouthed something to Seamus. The short Irish boy nodded and looked back at Harry. “We can do that?” he asked, shocked.

“Uhh… yeah?” Harry said, a bit confused at Dean’s and Seamus’ reactions. “Anyway… we better go get our boyfriends now. See you guys later.”

“Bye!” Neville said as he still struggled with his robes, almost falling onto his bed with a loud “Oomph!”

Walking down the stairs Harry looked over at Ron. “Do you think they’re…”

“Nah can’t be,” Ron said. “Four of us in the same House? In the same room? Nope. Don’t think so.”

Harry shrugged but left it at that as they entered the common room. It looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Harry and Ron squeezed their way through the crowds, passing by a disappointed Lavender Brown who kept staring at Ron and an anxious Ginny who kept staring at the stairs, and walked out of the portrait hole.

“Well,” Ron smiled, “at least now I have a chance to meet this Tom figure. Come on Harry, let’s go!” And with an unusual excitement Ron lead the way as they walked towards the entrance hall.

 

“I must say, you look rather slender. I remember your grandfather Abraxas having a minimum bulge around his waist. Though he tried to hide it using shirts and trickery,” Tom chuckled as he stood in the Slytherin common room, fully formed. _Fifty years and not a thing has changed about it,_ he thought to himself.

Draco Malfoy, whose back was to Tom, jumped in surprise and said, “Who do you think you are? How the bloody hell do you know my grandfather?” He gave a small sneer at Tom. “Never saw you before.”

Tom chuckled and looked around at the Slytherins in dress robes. “If I should gauge on power,” he mused, “Then I would have to say that right now none of you are even close to properly representing their family name. You Malfoy, are very lacking. And you. You look like a Crabbe to me, so you must be Goyle… squibs both of you compared to your fathers, and even then they are weak. Zabini. I can sense your mother’s power in you so raw and carnal. It is a shame that she did not join my side, but hopefully you would not make that mistake.” Tom smirked as he walked around in a slow circle, the Slytherins gathering around him confused and slightly scared at the icy, evil, powerful feeling that oozed from Tom.

Draco was the first to recognize him and breathed, “My Lord?” Only Tom heard but he nodded and smirked. “Yes Draco, and I must say that you have done a very good job taking care of my sweet prince, I must thank you for that. But for now, let us see who else is here… Ahh is that a Parkinson and Flint I see?”

Tom’s head turned towards Pansy Parkinson, who was wearing a gaudy pink dress robe, and Marcus Flint. “If I can recall correctly, Flint, your father was a horrid supporter. He could barely cause a proper curse. And you, Parkinson… well your father was just plain horrid.” Tom chuckled at his own joke. His deep laugh sent a fearful chill down everyone’s spine. Theodore Nott, however, seemed brave enough to take a step forward and asked in a shaking voice, “Who—who are you? What are you doing here?”

Tom looked at him, his dark brown eyes turning cold, hints of red appearing at the iris. “Draco Malfoy,” Tom instructed. “I believe it would be beneficial for you to inform your fellow students whom I am.”

“Yes My Lord,” Draco said. Standing tall and swelling with pride that his Dark Lord knows his name, Draco said, “He is our Lord! The Dark Lord is back and he stands with us.”

The Slytherins looked to be in a state of shock. Silence fell over the common room, dozens of eyes falling on Tom. Tom could see that behind each of pair their brains were whirling, trying to comprehend that he was back from the dead. _At least, I will be once I destroy the husk,_ Tom thought to himself, a sly smirk gracing his handsome face. “I assure you that I am the genuine article,” Tom said as he looked around. “I can see all of your minds trying to comprehend how I, Lord Voldemort, can look so young so… human.” His eyes fell on Parkinson, who moved closer to Greengrass. A lewd expression graced their face as well as most of the female population and Tom chuckled to himself. _How I missed this power,_ he thought. _Power over the opposite sex’s desires just through a few honeyed words and well placed looks. Harry, my sweet prince, I know together we can cultivate this special persuasive power._

“The answer is simple: I have power that you all know not. But some will learn… if you gain my favor,” Tom continued, his eyes moving away from the two Slytherins to Draco. “Only a chosen few picked by myself and my heir will learn the truth. The rest of you will be left wondering… longing… aching for my truth to slip from my lips.”

“M-My Lord,” Parkinson blushed. Tom chuckled, which only deepened Parkinson’s blush as well as cause a couple of other female Slytherins to blush as well.

Tom ignored them all and turned to Draco. “Draco, I would like to thank you. I’ve received your gift and it is much appreciated.” Draco looked on the floor to notice the clothes box that he gave Ron to give to Harry.

“You’re welcome, my Lord,” Draco said. Tom nodded and said, “Lead me to your dormitory Draco, I wish to speak with you privately. Goyle. Carry my box.” Tom commanded as he began to walk towards a set of stairs. The students jumped out of the way, all still in awed silence. Draco followed Tom, a look of superiority on his face as he walked with a certain swagger. Nobody moved after them.

“Goyle. Move,” Tom commanded again, his voice filling the common room and penetrating their very bodies. The Slytherins all froze in fear as Goyle jumped into action. The overweighed Slytherin picked the box up and ran after Tom and Draco. Draco was always a step behind Tom as the Dark Lord led the way towards the Fourth year boy’s dormitory. Draco opened the door for Tom and the two walked in.

Goyle came in ten seconds later, placing the box rather sloppily on the first bed closest to the door. Tom leered at the boy before sneering. “Disgusting,” he said waving his hand. Goyle’s body was flung into the air and out of the dormitory, slamming into the stone wall opposite the dormitory door as it closed and locked.

“My Lord, if I can—“

“Tom,” Tom said. Draco looked confused so Tom said, “My name. In privacy you may call me Tom. Tom Riddle.”

“My Lord… I mean Tom… thank you,” Draco stuttered, his face flushed at the enjoyment he felt from this huge achievement.

Tom nodded and said, “Continue your thought Draco.”

“Tom. … Can I ask how exactly you are here? Instead of in the diary?” Draco asked.

“Harry never told you?” Tom smiled as he opened the box. “Well that is alright. If I can make a long story short for time’s sake, you must know that my diary holds a piece of my soul. There are other objects that held pieces of my soul, the ring that Harry now wears being one of them. In the last two months I have traveled from my diary and absorbed two pieces of my soul from two objects that held them. These pieces, along with the parts of Harry’s soul that he so lovingly gave me completed each other, if only temporarily, and so here I am: fulfilling my beloved’s wish.”

“Harry’s wish?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Tom nodded. “We love each other Draco, and as lovers we miss each other’s touch. Tonight is not for I showing my power to that rabble downstairs you call Housemates, nor is it to show Dumbledore that I am alive. No tonight is for my love, for Harry, and fulfilling every wish and want he has. I am still weak Draco, I am not at my full strength. I need Harry’s help for that… as well as your help.”

“My help? But what can I do?” Draco asked. Tom looked at Draco and said, “Look after my prince. Our prince. Look after him while I am resting in the diary. Make sure that no harm comes to him… make sure that he survives the Triwizard Tournament. I fear one of my followers is trying to kill Harry. I do not know who and that is torturing me. After tonight I will no longer be here, I will trapped in my diary as I have been for fifty years. I need you, Draco, and anyone else you trust to be Harry’s protectors. Can you do that Draco?”

“Of course my Lord! And I know who also can help,” Draco said. “My boyfriend, Ron. He is a Weasley but—“

“Yes Ronald,” Tom chuckled. “I know everything about him. Harry and Ronald trusts each other with their own lives. Yes, he is already a fine protector of my prince, and a finer friend. Who else do you have in mind?”

“Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott… as well as Marcus Flint,” Draco said.

“Flint? Why him?” Tom asked.

“He is strong both physically and magically,” Draco said. “Strong, loyal to your cause, and far better than his cowardly father.”

Tom thought for a moment, silently staring at Draco for a long while. “We will see,” he finally said. “Now, tell me about this dress robe that you have brought for me.” Tom lifted the dress robe and held it in front of him. The dress robes were black with dark-silver embroidery of an elaborate design. It was form-fitting and slightly heavy to hold. The color was outlined with dark green that blended with the black.

“It’s the most expensive male dress robes that I could find,” Draco said. “Do not worry about it fitting you, it will contort to your body perfectly, my Lord.”

Tom just looked at Draco for a moment before placing the dress robes on the bed again. He reached deeper into the box and pulled out a pair of black shoes. Placing it on the floor Tom started to undress in front of Draco. “Malfoy, there is one more thing I wish to discuss,” Tom said as he started to unbutton his shirt, revealing a well-built body.

“Y-Yes My Lord?” Draco stuttered, his cheeks reddening at the sight of Tom’s body.

Either oblivious or ignoring Draco’s staring Tom said, “I would like to borrow your wand Draco, if only for a second. You see, I am currently not in possession of my own wand as a husk holds it.”

“A husk?”

“Yes, a husk,” Tom nodded, shedding his pants and standing only in boxers. “The sliver of Lord Voldemort’s soul that survived all this time. The one who attacked my prince and tried to steal the Philosopher Stone. The pathetic waste that dares call itself Lord Voldemort that only the weak snivel towards. That husk.”

“I uhh… I don’t think I understand Tom… my Lord,” Draco said, doing his best to advert his eyes. Tom chuckled at that and turned to face Draco. “Physical beauty is nothing to look away from Draco, especially when it has a dominating presence.”

“My Lord…”

“Look at my body, Malfoy,” Tom commanded. Draco’s face burned crimson as he hesitated then looked up at Tom. The older teen smirked and crossed his arms across his defined chest. “Nothing to be ashamed of Malfoy,” he said. “Just don’t allow yourself to fall into depravity like the people we use… do not even allow the thought of _touching_ enter that pretty mind of yours.”

Draco just nodded, his face still red. “Tell me Draco, do they know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Does the rabble downstairs know that you prefer boys over girls?” Tom asked as he began to dress. Draco was silence so Tom continued, “I will take your silence as a no. In which case I must tell you that I have noticed a few things: First was that both Greengrass and Parkinson were dressed and, when they were not petrified from my person, they were both giving obvious looks your way. The second is that the longer you put off telling people, the worst the results are.”

“I didn’t tell people… because of my father,” Draco said. “He doesn’t like people like us… and he always have a plan of how I should grow up down to each small detail. Parkinson and Greengrass… father told me that I am to marry one of them. Both girls know that I am supposed to marry one of their families so they both are trying to compete to become my wife.”

“Interesting…” Tom muttered. “So that is the kind of man your father is… different from Abraxas. That much is certain.” He was fully dressed at this point and looked at Draco. “Your wand, Draco.”

“Here, my Lord,” Draco said giving Tom his wand. Tom took Draco’s wand in his hand and couldn’t help as he gave a soft chuckle. “How quickly your wand submit to my magic,” he mused. “A show of loyalty, Draco?”

“Of course my Lord,” Draco said. “I am entirely loyal to you. After all, you are the catalyst that started my friendship with Harry; a friendship that ultimately brought me to Ron.” Draco had a smile as he his thoughts turned to his boyfriend.

Tom just nodded and asked, “What is my Aura, Malfoy?”

“Tom… I didn’t want to mention this. I’ve never saw anything like this before,” Draco said. “Your aura… it’s black!”

“As I thought,” Tom mused. “Auras, as you might have known, are a reflection of a wizard’s soul; their leaning towards the Dark Arts or Light Magic. Most wizards are Light-inclined so their Auras are golden. Dark Wizards, however, have an emerald aura. Naturally only Aura-Readers, a rare and small population, can see these. My aura, however, is Black. This is the end result of not only a lifetime of studying the Dark Arts, but of splitting your soul. It is now in complete, so an Aura-Reader cannot fully read the soul. So instead of patchy emerald, it is simply black. What I will do now is change my aura for the night. A necessary precaution for we both don’t want Dumbledore to notice anything strange.”

“But my Lord… Tom… won’t he recognize you instantly?” Draco asked.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “The last time he had seen this face was fifty years ago Draco. And during that time I was just a face in a crowd, with my achievements of course. The old man will not recognize me, that I am certain of. Do not worry Draco, tonight is for our boys: Harry and Ron. Do not let Dumbledore or anyone else ruin it.”

“Of course Tom,” Draco nodded. Tom started to move Draco’s wand in a complex sequence that Draco couldn’t keep up with. The younger Slytherin was amazed, however, as before his eyes the black aura that surrounded Tom started to change, pockets of gold breaking through the blackness until it surrounded Tom completely. Then, with a final slash, emerald started to appear faintly just on the outskirts. Tom silently gave Draco his wand back, turned, then left the dormitory.

The Slytherins were still in their places as Tom entered the common room, Draco following afterwards. “Why are you all still here?” Tom asked, his icy, hard persona slipping easily on his face.

Most of the Slytherins left immediately. Only the fourth year girls remained. “Girls… out.”

“We, we need to see who Draco is taking,” Parkinson said.

“She’s right,” Greengrass nodded. “Draco. Who are you taking? Pansy or me?”

Draco looked at both of them and shrugged. “None of you. I’m taking my boyfriend,” he said. Tom and Draco ignored the girls’ tantrums as they left the Slytherin common room and made their way to the entrance hall.

 

The entrance hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o’clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting partners from different Houses were edging through the crowd trying to find one another. Ron and Harry decided to stay at the edge, both on their tip-toes looking for their dates. Fleur Delacour passed by, looking stunning in robes of silver-gray satin, and accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies. The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by his boyfriend. Over their heads he saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights—meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

“Harry my love, there you are,” Tom’s voice said from behind Harry and Ron. They both turned to see both Tom and Draco standing behind them.

“Tom!” Harry smiled, immediately putting himself in Tom’s arms as he hugged his boyfriend tightly. From the corner of his eye he could see Draco giving Ron a welcoming snog. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Of course my prince,” Tom smiled in Harry’s ear.

Professor McGonagall’s voice called out over the crowd, “Champions over here, please!”

“Come on Tom,” Harry smiled as he slipped his hand in Tom’s. The couple walked forward, the chatting crowd parting to let them through. Professor McGonagall, who was wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, told them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside; they were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Harry and Tom kept to themselves; Harry resting on Tom’s chest as they whispered to each other.

Harry and Tom got strange looks as the doors to the Great Hall opened and the couples walked in. Once everyone else was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They did so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauded as they entered and started walking up toward a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

“They’re all staring at you,” Harry whispered at Tom.

“Of course they are, I have the most beautiful boy on my arm,” Tom smirked as he glanced at the gawking couples. Hogwarts students turned towards each other, a hushed whispering filled the silence between applauses as they asked each other who exactly Tom is. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hogwarts is truly the hardest place to keep secrets. Which naturally is why I’ve gotten so good at it,” he said to Harry, who giggled.

Dumbledore smiled happily as the champions approached the top table, but Karkaroff wore an awful expression. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. But Mr. Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. The fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley. “Is that another Weasley?” Tom whispered to Harry. “I’ve counted four of them walking in.”

“Percy Weasley,” Harry whispered. “He’s not supposed to be here though, Mr. Crouch is!”

“Crouch? Hmm…” Tom said.

“What’s the matter?”

“For some reason that name seems familiar to me,” Tom said. “Though I do not know why…”

“Odd,” Harry said.

When the champions and their partners reached the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry took the hint and sat down next to Percy, who was wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such smugness that Harry thought it ought to be fined.

“I’ve been promoted,” Percy said before Harry could even ask, and from his tone, he might have been announcing his election as supreme ruler of the universe. “I’m not Mr. Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.”

Tom was not paying attention to Percy and Harry at all as Percy went into a small speech on why Mr. Crouch wasn’t there. Instead he looked out at the students sitting at the smaller tables and couldn’t help but smile, an old memory and want reviving to him. “Harry,” he interrupted, “Harry love, have I ever told you? I once wanted to become a Hogwarts professor here.”

“You have?” Harry asked, turning his attention from Percy to Tom.

Tom nodded and looked down the table. “I have. I wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Tom said.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” Percy interjected. “Who might you be?”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tom smiled politely. He extended his hand for Percy to shake. “My name is Thomas. I’m Harry’s boyfriend and date tonight.”

Percy took Tom’s hand cautiously and looked down at Harry. “Boyfriend… but didn’t Mum tell us—“

“No we’re not,” Harry said. “That was just an article Skeeter wrote.”

“Okay… well… nice to meet you… Thomas. …What year did you say you were in again?” Percy said awkwardly as he shook Tom’s hand.

“I didn’t but I am in my sixth year,” Tom smiled. “I’m in Ravenclaw.”

“Ah okay,” Percy said, a little less awkwardly. He turned away from the couple and looked down at the golden plates in front of them.

There was no food yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus were lying in front of each of them. Harry picked his up uncertainly and looked around—there were no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menus, then said very clearly to his plate, “Pork chops!”

And pork chops appeared. Getting the idea, the rest of the table placed their orders with their plates too. Harry glanced down the table. Krum and his boyfriend were sitting close together, the small boy practically resting on the bigger boy as they whispered to each other. Harry blushed and looked at Tom. Is that how they look now?

“Something bothering you Harry?” Tom asked.

“No uhh… it’s nothing,” Harry said, blushing, his hand brushing in the air. His ring shone in the light and Percy noticed it. “Harry, when did you get that ring?” he asked.

Percy’s question got some of the table’s attention. Dumbledore and Karkaroff looked their way, both of them looking at Tom for the first time. Both men looked confused, Dumbledore’s eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to focus on the ring. Harry’s hand rested on the table. “Tom got it for me,” he said. “For our two year anniversary.”

“Two years!?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “We met in my second year.”

“Indeed,” Tom smiled, his hand going on Harry’s. “He was such a sweet boy… of course we didn’t start dating till the end of his third year,” Tom chuckled. “The ring is actually my grandfather’s.”

“It is such a peculiar ring,” Dumbledore spoke up looking at both Harry and Tom. Harry couldn’t read the expression in Dumbledore’s eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. “I have never seen such a design personally. If you can, tell me where your grandfather obtained such a ring?”

Tom didn’t miss a beat as he said, “He brought it from a jeweler in America. He and my grandmother was there for their anniversary and they found this ring in a small shop in a city called Chicago. They brought the ring there, and when my grandfather died the ring went to my father, who gave it to me when I’ve gotten my Hogwarts letter. I’m muggleborn you see, my mother, father, and myself were very surprised to see that I was actually a wizard. It actually explained a lot of weird stuff that happened when I was young,” Tom finished chuckling.

Dumbledore chuckled and said, “Yes. Underage magic when children are very young usually result from an abundance of emotion. Do you remember what exactly you’ve done?”

“Mainly torture the house cat,” Tom said laughing politely. “I remember one time I’ve somehow got a chair to chase the cat around our entire living room. I almost broke the television! Mother wouldn’t believe me when I told her the chair chased our cat.”

Dumbledore chuckled and smiled. “Yes, highly amusing. It is always such an amusement to hear what witches and wizards did before they’ve turned eleven. Now, Karkaroff where was I? Oh yes, why only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon—or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.”

Harry snorted into his plate of goulash. Percy and Tom frowned, but Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had given him a very small wink.

“Look at the glares both Parkinson and Greengrass are giving Draco and Ron,” Tom whispered in Harry’s ear. Harry’s eyes followed where Tom was pointing subtly towards. Parkinson and Greengrass were sitting with Crabbe and Goyle and a few other Slytherins at one of the smaller tables on the other side of the Hall. Both girls looked every now and then at a table near the Gryffindor side where Ron and Draco sat. It looked weird, Harry noticed, to see Draco not only on the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall but being surrounded by Gryffindors… and laughing? Harry just stared at Ron and Draco as they conversed with the twins and their dates. Harry’s mind couldn’t comprehend such a concept!

“What is going on?” Harry whispered. “This feels so surreal…”

Tom chuckled and said, “Everyone must have caught the gaiety of this celebration. I must admit that even I feel more… ecstatic than usual.”

Harry chuckled and smiled at Tom. “I like that to be honest. You should smile more,” he said.

“I smile the perfect amount Harry,” Tom said as he returned to his dinner.

When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. They picked up their instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested in watching them that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realized that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.

“Come on Harry,” Tom said. “I’m not a fan of music but we can bear one song.”

Harry almost tripped over his dress robes as he stood up. The Weird Sisters struck up a slow, mournful tune; Harry walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, carefully avoiding catching anyone’s eye (he could see Seamus and Dean waving at him and snickering) and the next moment, Tom had seized his hands, place one on his waist and was holding the other in his. “Follow my steps,” Tom was whispering.

Tom guided Harry expertly and Harry saw and smiled as Tom’s normal demeanor slipped on his face. “Dancing is a lot like strategy Harry,” Tom instructed. “Both require you to think ahead, to predict what the other’s next move will be and to take control of it instantly. Here I am taking the lead, I step and you follow, I move and you react. This is the principle of dancing as well as strategy. Do you follow Harry?”

“Uhhh…” Harry said, too focused on not trying to step on Tom’s feet. He kept his eyes fixed over the heads of the watching people, and very soon many of them too had come onto the dance floor, so that the champions were no longer the center of attention. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby—he could see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet—and Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime. He was so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin; however, she moved very gracefully for a woman so large. Dean and Seamus were dancing together, and Ron was tripping himself as Draco tried to lead with increasing frustration.

“Pay attention Harry. Look at my face,” Tom said. His voice snapped Harry back towards him. “Good. You must always looked at your partner’s face when dancing just as you should always stare at your enemy when dueling. Now, let us first think of the waltz—that is the dance we are doing right now, at least trying to perform—it goes at a ¾ time signature and so we must move precisely to those measures. It is rather simple. One, two, three, one two three, one two three. Your foot should move on each beat, either following or leading. Don’t look down Harry, it will only show your incompetence. Though, if it does help you are not the worst I have danced with.”

“Where did you learn all of this?” Harry demanded.

“The first person whom I loved,” Tom said. “He was a rather enthusiastic ballroom dancer with a foppish personality. He was a Hufflepuff naturally, and he only taught me how exactly to dance. It was I who incorporated the strategy simile. Turn back to our lessons Harry, and you should be fine.”

The song ended only for a faster tune to start. Harry thought that Tom would stop, but he didn’t. Without missing a beat or even stopping to applause like the rest of the crowd, Tom continued to lead Harry in the dance, quickening his step and introducing a twirl here and there. “Do not allow yourself to fall to using the same tactics, my prince,” Tom said. “You must always either add changes to your strategies or be doomed to fail.”

“I, I think I understand,” Harry said, starting to get into the comfortable sensation of letting Tom guide him through the dance. Tom smiled as they spun, their robes billowing in sync and almost making a complete circle. Tom continued to lead the dance, both of them moving away from their original spot towards the doors of the Hall. When the second song ended Tom stopped and looked around. “Let’s go for a walk, Harry,” he said.

Harry nodded and allowed Tom to take his hand as they slipped out into the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, and the fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden winked and twinkled as they went down the front steps, where they found themselves surrounded by bushes; winding, ornamental paths; and large stone statues. Harry could hear splashing water, which sounded like a fountain. Here and there, people were sitting on carved benches. He and Tom set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes, but they had gone only a short way when they heard an unpleasantly familiar voice.

“…don’t see what there is to fuss about, Igor.”

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it—“

“Then flee,” Snape’s voice said curtly. “Flee—I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Snape and Karkaroff came around the corner. Snape had his wand out and was blasting rose bushes apart, his expressions most ill-natured. Squeals issued from many of the bushes, and dark shapes emerged from them.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!” Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. “And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins!” as a boy went rushing after her. “And what are you two doing?” he added, catching sight of Harry and Rom on the path ahead.

Karkaroff, Harry saw, looked slightly discomposed to see them standing there. His hand went nervously to his goatee, and he began winding it around his finger.

“We’re walking,” Harry said shortly. “Nothing against the law with that.”

“Keep walking then!” Snape snarled, and he brushed past them, his long black cloak billowing out behind him. Karkaroff hurried away after Snape. Harry and Tom continued down the path.

“Interesting… I wonder could it be,” Tom muttered to himself before shaking his head. “No, the husk is too weak.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing we should worry about tonight my love,” Tom said. “Come, let’s find a more secluded place.” They moved off the path and away from the rose garden. With each step something grew in Harry as he kept close to Tom, a heat rising inside him that soon took over his body.

“Tom,” he moaned.

They moved through a circle of bushes, fairy lights twinkling in them, and into a small area hidden by the tall bushes. “Perfect,” Tom smirked. He took off his robe and laid it on the untouched snow. He turned to Harry and pulled the smaller boy towards him, conquering his lips as his tongue slipped into the younger’s mouth. Harry moaned at Tom’s touch and wrapped his arms around the older boy, needing to feel him, the overwhelming heat spreading to every ion of his body and controlling his actions.

Their lips plump, Tom pulled back biting Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth. “What do you need Harry?” Tom smirked. “Say it, my little prince, and I will give you the world.”

“You,” Harry panted. “I need you Tom! I need to make me completely yours! Own everything of me!” Harry’s cheeks flushed as he stared up at Tom, his body over sensitive as his cock pressed against his dress robes, leaking.

Tom gave Harry a lewd look of satisfaction as he drew a single finger down his cheek. “Do you understand what you’re asking for, Harry? You will be mine completely… mind, body, and soul. Do you want that?”

“Yes Tom,” Harry moaned as his skin shivered. Tom’s finger traced his jaw line and moved slowly down his neck, resting just above the collar of his dress robes. “I love you Tom, please—please do this!”

Tom smirked and took a step from Harry. He reached towards one of the bushes and picked a rose off of it. “Give me your wand, Harry,” Tom commanded.

Harry nodded and freely gave Tom his wand. Tom tapped the tip of Harry’s wand to the rose and it started to transfigure. The petals first turned black, then they expanded slowly changing texture as the petals melded together until Harry couldn’t tell where the petals began or ended. Two eyeholes appeared and the outline of the top of a nose. Harry realized that it was a masquerade mask, or at least it looked like a more regal masquerade mask.

It was black and looked to be made of an expensive texture that Harry couldn’t guess; it looked like onyx. The mask was outlined with a few snakes in menacing positions, their eyes made of real emeralds staring at Harry as they seemed to hiss at him. Harry thought he saw something shimmering in the two eyeholes of the half-mask. He wanted to reach for it, to touch and feel the mask under his fingers, but knew that he couldn’t. He could only move when Tom told him. “Take off your glasses my prince,” Tom breathed.

Harry’s hand moved towards his glasses and pulled them off, the world around him becoming cloudy and unfocused. Using both hands, Tom gently placed the mask on Harry, it slipping perfectly on the top half of Harry’s face. Harry gasped as he realized that he could see perfectly! Tom smiled victoriously and said, “I’ve got the lens right it seems.”

Harry reached for the mask and lightly pushed his finger against the eyehole, the finger pressing against the lens. Tom still had his smile as Harry looked at him, a huge grin on his face. “Tom!” he said.

Tom gently took Harry’s glasses and placed them on his robe on the ground. “I want you to strip, but keep the mask on,” he commanded.

Harry was happy to shed his clothing; his limbs moving quickly as he practically tore his dress robes apart for Tom. The older boy just watched amused as Harry stood in front of him naked. Tom took the moment to fully observe Harry’s body. “Puberty is treating you well Harry,” he said as he took a step towards Harry. Using one finger he dragged his hand down Harry’s chest and through the beginnings of chest hair that started to grow. “I think you’ll look wonderful once this all grows out,” Tom muttered. “Of course we’ll be trimming it to make sure it looks perfect for my little prince.”

Harry blushed but smiled as pleasurable shivers traveled through his body, the cold air around them hardening his nipples. Tom chuckled and flicked one of them. “They are just waiting for attention, aren’t they?” Tom smirked. Harry just moaned and nodded. Tom knelt and before Harry could respond, Tom’s mouth was on Harry’s nipple his tongue flicking Harry’s nipple as his teeth scrapped against Harry’s chest. Harry moaned and his cock bobbed in the air, fully hard and leaking. With one free hand Tom grabbed the cock fully in his hand and squeezed. With one last lick Tom looked up at Harry and said, “No cumming now Harry, you told me that your body is mine. You can only cum when I deem it. Understand?” Tom asked with another squeeze of Harry’s cock.

The small boy moaned and nodded, his emerald eyes shimmering through the onyx mask. Tom smirked and continued his assault on Harry’s breast. His hand still holding Harry’s cock, Tom used his other to play with Harry’s other nipple, squeezing and rolling it between his thumb and pointer. High whimpers left Harry’s lips as his breath continued to hitch. “T-T-Tom!”

“What is it my prince?” Tom asked. “Don’t you like it when I play with your breasts?”

“I do…” Harry said, biting his lip as he did his best to keep himself from cumming.

“I can feel your pre-cum slicking your cock and my hand Harry, are you trying your best to be a good prince?” Tom asked.

Harry nodded vigorously and Tom smiled. “Good boy. Here, lick my hand clean.” Tom brought his cum-slicked hand towards Harry’s hand. His pink tongue darted out and Harry licked enthusiastically, familiar to the taste of his own cum.

With his hand clean, Tom resumed his journey down Harry’s body, his tongue licked and dragged across Harry’s skin. He left bite marks everywhere he went, each one making Harry flinch, until he got to Harry’s cock. Harry’s cock was cut, five inches erect and some pubic hair was starting to grow at the base of his cock. Tom just gave Harry a look before swallowing Harry’s cock in his mouth. Harry gave a stifled gasp as he felt Tom’s hot mouth around his cock, his tongue dragging on the underside of Harry’s cock. Harry was turning to goo under Tom’s fingers. One large hand pressed against Harry’s flat stomach, the other holding one cheek of Harry’s ass, keeping him in place as Tom hollowed his lips and started bobbing. Harry’s cock was as hard as it ever was and his body trembled as his cock tremor with the need to cum.

“T-Tom!” Harry stuttered.

Tom looked up , his lips still stretched around Harry’s cock, and smirked. Harry’s cock slide out of Tom’s mouth covered with pre-cum and saliva. Tom swallowed before saying, “Remember Harry, don’t cum yet.”

“I—I can’t hold it in,” Harry panted. His entire face was flushed, his body sweaty despite the cold wind.

“Then we will simply ignore your needs for a while,” Tom said as he stood up fully. “On your knees, my love,” he commanded gently. Harry moved, his skin resting on his dress robes, the snow frosting his legs through the fabric. Tom saw Harry shiver for a moment before taking Harry’s wand out of his pocket and pointed his wand at the clothing, warming them up. Harry smiled in appreciation and stared up at Tom.

Tom was still fully clothed, a dominating aura surrounding him as the Dark Lord looked down at his prince. Harry’s smile softened but stayed as he stared at Tom, naked body, hard cock and mask. “Such a pretty boy,” Tom sighed. “You were made to be here my prince, the perfect size,” Tom smiled. “Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

“I’m… I’m going to suck your dick?” Harry asked.

“Yes you are,” Tom smiled. “Now say it Harry, with confidence.”

“I’m going to suck your cock,” Harry said with more confidence. His reward was Tom un-zippering his pants and pulling out his thick cock. “Big…” Harry gasped. Tom’s cock was nine inches long and three inches thick.

“Just for you, my prince,” Tom smirked. “Take as much as you can handle.”

Harry nodded and held Tom’s cock in his hand. Opening his mouth as wide as he could Harry swallowed and choked as he lowered his head on the fat, pink mushroom-head of the most perfect cock he had ever seen. Tears slip from the bottom of Harry’s mask as it became hard for him to breathe.

“Breathe through your nose Harry. Focus on only breathing through your nose,” Tom instructed. Harry nodded and opened his nostrils as wide as he could as he practiced breathing. When he felt he had the hang of breathing, Harry’s head moved on Tom’s cock slowly taking inch by inch until it felt like he couldn’t take enough! “Good try Harry, that’s half of my cock in your pretty head. Get used to it… breathe… then start moving.”

Harry’s jaw ached and more tears fell from his mask as he breathed slowly, getting used to having the heavy hot cock in his small mouth. Soon he started to move, his lips dragging on Tom’s cock and his tongue licking a large vein on Tom’s cock. “Good…” Tom moaned, “that’s a good prince, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth curled upwards in a smile at Tom’s praise. He lowered his head again until the back of Tom’s cock pressed against his throat. It was messy but Harry eventually gotten into a flow of sucking Tom’s cock. Tom murmured praise and encouragement between his low moans; his hands were in Harry’s hair. “Such a natural Harry,” Tom said. Now stay still.”

Harry stopped and felt Tom’s grip tighten on his hair. Tom started to move on his own, his cock sliding in and out of Harry’s mouth as the younger boy gagged. “Breathe… breathe…” Tom said. Tom started slowly, using long, strong strokes as he moved in and out of Harry’s mouth. But soon his pace increased, becoming more animalistic as Harry’s gags and the slick sound of his cock moving in Harry’s small mouth turned him on.

“Fuck Harry,” Tom cursed as he continued to face-fuck his love. Harry gagged, tears falling from his tears but Harry couldn’t be happier! He was breathing easily through his nose and relaxed as the aching in his jaws dulled. Tom was now moving at a rough pace, sometimes his entire cock was in Harry only for a second before coming out then in again. Tom continued the pace relentlessly the pressure in his cock slowly growing. “I’m going to cum in you Harry,” Tom panted. “When I do—swallow every drop!”

Harry moaned in response and opened his throat as with a final thrust Tom’s entire cock was in Harry’s mouth and throat and he came. Harry felt the hot sticky cum in his throat and kept swallowing, the cum travelling down his throat until he couldn’t feel it anymore. Ropes and ropes of cum filled Harry’s mouth and throat, and the fourteen year old did his best to swallow each and every drop.

Tom’s cock did not soften but his cum did pitter to a stop. Tom pulled his cock out of Harry’s mouth and stared down at his boy. Cheeks red-flushed and tear-stained, lips puffy and bruised and the onyx mask contrasting everything, Harry looked at this moment the perfection of submission. A drop of cum leaked from Harry’s lips but his tongue darted out to lick it. “So pretty,” Tom whispered. “How did it taste, Harry?”

“Delicious Tom,” Harry replied.

Tom smirked and casually began to take his clothes off. Harry moved to help but Tom stopped him by lightly smacking his shoulder with Harry’s wand. “Stay kneeling Harry,” Tom said. “You’ll do no work tonight.”

Harry nodded and watched as Tom undressed himself. His chest was formed, arms toned, and stomach shown abs. Tom looked to be the peak of physical fitness and Harry loved every moment of staring at his lover. There was a treasure trail from Tom’s abs to his cock and Harry could feel his mouth salivate staring at it. Once Tom was fully naked he looked down at Harry and said, “On all fours now.”

Harry obeyed and got on his hands and knees, his ass in the air and cheeks spread. Tom got to his knees and placed each hand on Harry’s ass, moving them apart even further. “Such a pretty hole, my prince,” Tom said. “Hairless… pink… just inviting me to take it. Would you like that Harry? Do you want my cock in your pretty hole?”

“Yes Tom,” Harry moaned.

“Say it,” Tom commanded.

“I want your cock in my pretty hole!” Harry moaned.

“Good prince,” Tom said. He picked up Harry’s wand and aimed it at Harry’s ass. “We have time to play later, love, but for now we both need my cock inside you.” Tom pressed the wand against Harry’s hole and Harry’s spine stiffened at the cold feeling. His ass pucker tightened but Tom pushed through and soon a hot wetness filled Harry’s ass as the hole started to expand!

Fully lubed and stretched Tom pulled out the wand, but before Harry could protest against the empty feeling Tom’s cock plunged fully into the tight, hot hole. Harry screamed in pain and pleasure. Both boys were consumed by lust at that point and didn’t wait for Harry to adjust. Tom started at a ferocious pace, his muscles flexing with each thrust into his small prince. Harry’s screams continued and turned into low throaty moans that only stimulated Tom even more. “Take my cock Harry! Your ass feels so perfect my prince! Your body is mine Harry, everything is mine!” Tom snarled.

“Yours!” Harry’s voice hitched. “I’m your prince! T-Tom I love you so much!” Harry continued to scream and moan as Tom’s body pressed against him, the Dark Lord rutting him. Tom started an assault on Harry’s neck, biting and licking at one spot as he continued to fuck the boy senselessly. Harry felt all control of his body leave him; he was under Tom’s influence completely as the teen made him feel like moldable clay. Harry could feel Tom breaking him down with each thrust, destroying the old Harry Potter who everybody knew and instead made a completely new person, a new identity for the boy that was entirely Tom’s. Tom’s name was the only word that escaped Harry’s lips as he started to chant, his ass moving in sync with Tom’s thrusts. He was a new person, a new identity as the life of Harry Potter, golden Gryffindor shattered away. Harry felt he was no longer Harry Potter. He was Tom’s lover, fully and completely his as Tom fully and completely is Harry’s as well; he was Tom’s prince, Tom’s heir, the only person who knew of Tom’s secrets and emotions.

“Cum in me! Cum in me!” Harry begged. “Please Tom! Change me!”

“Harry, you’re already changed,” Tom grunted as with a final thrust he came for a second time in Harry’s destroyed ass. Harry came as well as he felt Tom filling him, his seed being absorbed by Harry’s body. Cum dripped by the sides of Tom’s cock and Harry’s hole, leaking down his lean legs. Tom pulled his cock out and pressed it against Harry’s leg, dragging it across where the cum leaked and pushed it back into Harry’s hole. Harry moaned and smiled fully satisfied as he collapsed on the snow and robes. He felt his hole open and empty, Tom’s cum a source of heat inside it.

“Look at me Harry,” Tom said. Harry felt himself being flipped; his back now on the robes and snow as he looked up at his lover. Tom smiled and bent down; gently kissing Harry’s puffed and abused lips. “That was perfect Harry… are you hurt?”

“No, it’s a happy ache,” Harry smiled as he felt his ass starting to sting. Tom chuckled and kissed Harry again. “Good, I’m glad.”

He took Harry’s wand and tapped it against Harry’s mask. They transfigured themselves into an exact match of Harry’s glasses. “I want you to wear this pair now,” Tom breathed. “This is my mark for you, my gift to show that you are my lover. Whenever I want, the glasses will turn into your mask again and your identity as Harry Potter will be hidden. Obviously, my love, you will need a new name with the mask.”

Harry smiled and kissed Tom this time. “I think I know what I want to be called, Tom.”

“What is it?”

Harry’s smile grew into a sinister leer. He stood with the help of Tom and looked directly into Tom’s brown satisfied eyes. “The Dark Prince.”

Tom chuckled and pulled Harry to him. “Harry Potter: The Dark Prince,” He whispered. “Good… however I like this better. Harry Potter: _My_ Dark Prince.” They kissed again in their secluded circle. On the other side of the garden, Ron and Draco were consummating their love: the Slytherin swearing as Ron filled him with his seed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

“Hey—Harry!”

Harry turned to see Cedric Diggory running towards him. It was the day after the Yule Ball. As Tom predicted, he returned to the diary which was now burning in Harry’s pocket. “Yeah?” Harry asked.

“Listen…” Cedric lowered his voice as if he didn’t want to be overheard, “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“Well… the prefects’ bathroom is the fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh…’ Not a bad place for a bath,” Cedric whispered. Cedric left Harry in the corridor as he hurried away. Harry stared back confused before looked at his robes.

He pulled out the diary and stared at it, “Tom when will you wake up? I’m slightly confused and need to talk with you,” he sighed. Shaking his head when he got no response Harry continued down the corridor. The corridors were deserted as it was only mid-afternoon Boxing Day and the rest of the students were sleepy and lazy from last night’s ball. Harry couldn’t take the strange looks he was getting in Gryffindor common room, especially from Ginny and some other girls who thought he would ask them out, so he went for a walk around the castle. He decided to step outside for a while when he heard hushed voiced and crying.

Concerned, Harry followed the sound of crying outside into the courtyard. In a corner, away from the biting wind, were a familiar redhead and blond, both hugging each other as the blond-haired boy cried. Harry frowned as he approached the couple. He could see that both Ron and Draco were crying, and both looking very frustrated. In Draco’s fist was a crumbled piece of paper.

“Draco? Ron?” Harry asked in a hushed voice when he was near enough. The couple jumped and looked up at Harry. Harry saw that both their eyes were red with tears, Draco’s puffy and his normally pale skin flushed. “What’s the matter? What happened?” Harry asked more gently.

Ron frowned, looking as if he didn’t want to share whatever horribleness fell on him and Draco. Draco however, wiped his sleeve across his face, drying his tears, before giving Harry the letter. “Father wrote this,” he said. “He got word about Ron and me… he and mother… they don’t— _sniff_ —they don’t— _sniff_ —“ Draco’s face contorted as he tried to hold back the tears but he couldn’t. Instead Harry sat down next to Draco on the stone bench and gently took the letter from Draco’s hands. He looked at Ron, silently asking for permission, and Ron nodded.

_Draco,_

_Your mother and I are severely disappointed. Not only have you brought shame to yourself and your family, but you have also insulted some of the more influential pure-blood families with your refusal to bring either female heir of the Parkinson Family or Greengrass family to the Yule Ball. I know that your selection is not the best at the moment, both your mother and I agree it would be best for you to marry a female Black if one existed, but to go to the ball with a blood-traitor? A_ male blood-traitor _at that! Your mother and I cannot even begin to comprehend what went through your mind that made you think that this would be a reasonable decision, let alone an acceptable one! You should know that we are currently not only the laughing-stock of our society but the talk of your scandal will overshadow everything that I have worked for. In a single night you have not only destroyed years of planning and negotiation but you have made me look like a father who is lacking discipline, a mistake that you will be paying for in multitude._

_Your lack of discipline and insistence to disobedience will not be tolerated. If you have decided to date the female blood-traitor, that could have been dealt with easily. There are lessons and potions that will make the blood-traitor more malleable to turn into a proper Lady. However since you have decided on the male blood-traitor that notion is simply impossible. Your insistence to act in such a horrible matter has left your mother and I with little choice. You know our thoughts on the lesser sexuality, and what will happen to them once the Dark Lord comes into power. You specifically know the deaths that will be the dealt to that vile subhuman population. Whatever you were thinking of actually being with them, your mother and I will never know. I will not have a faggot as a son. I will not even think of the possibility. I would rather strike you down myself than allow you to live in this disgusting existence you choose to follow. However, since current laws do not allow such action I am forced to stay my hand. However since you have decided to live this life of sodomy with the blood-traitor, you no longer prove valuable to me, valuable to your mother, or in fact valuable to any proper society. In fact I am comfortable saying that your entire life is entirely pointless and not-needed. Every single breath you drew since your birth and every breath you draw since reading this letter is a complete waste of precious resources that should rather be saved for proper and real males who are drawn to the proper and fairer sex._

_Know this Draco, if I had my way you and that blood-traitor would already be dead, the blood-traitor’s family forced to bury both of you before they die for birthing that spawn. But since my wife and I are not allowed for such action, and since there are no other suitable girls for you to marry now that your scandal is out in public, your mother and I have no choice but to separate ourselves from your debauchery._

_Draco, from this point forward you have no family, no last name. You are no longer a Malfoy. I, Lucius Malfoy, Head of the Malfoy family and fortune, do disown you Draco from my family. You will no longer be welcomed from my family, my halls, nor any of my establishment. If I ever see you again, or if I hear of your name from my associates, then I will take both legal and physical action against you for stealing and soiling the Malfoy name. As of this moment my wife and I have no son, we are childish and so much work to produce a more obedient heir. The rest of your Hogwarts payments were made, but you must fend for yourself for supplies and text. I hope that your death is near and comes slowly. You are truly a disappointment not only on the Malfoy name, but on the Wizarding Community as a whole._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Tears fell from Harry’s eyes as he finished reading. He looked up at Draco, voiceless as his body began to tremor from both the cold air and overwhelming emotion. “Draco…” he breathed. Draco looked up at Harry and sniffled. He silently motioned for the piece of paper and Harry gave it to him. Draco stared at the letter and read in a broken voice, “’You have no family, no last name. You are no longer a Malfoy.’” Fat tears began to form again and Ron held Draco closer to him.

“Don’t think about it,” Ron said.

“Everything… everything I’ve known, worked for gone!” Draco continued to cry.

Harry felt extremely sadden at the sight of his strong friend crying. _Draco shouldn’t cry,_ he couldn’t help but thought to himself. “When did…”

“This morning,” Draco said drying his tears. “I found the letter waiting for me. Thankfully no one else saw it but still… I need to figure out how I am going to face them.”

“Who?”

“My Housemates,” Draco said. “It will be no secret that I am no longer a Malfoy. Father will waste no time making sure that the Community knows that we are no longer related. And after that everything I’ve worked for since first year, all the connections I’ve painstakingly made for my father, my family, gone. I’ll be no one… I’ll be… I’ll be—“ Tears again.

Frustrated with his emotions, Harry’s fist tightened as anger and rage roared inside him. “Shut up,” He bit harshly. “Draco. Shut up. You are not a no one, you are a Malfoy! You’re my friend, and my best mate’s boyfriend. You’re stronger than this.”

“No I’m not!” Draco glared at Harry, cheeks flushed and voice cracked. “I am not stronger than this Potter!”

“Yes you are!” Harry yelled. “Or are you so stuffed up your father’s ass that you can’t see that?”

“Don’t say that again,” Draco said. He pushed away from Ron and stood up, Harry following.

“Or what?” Harry snarled. “You damn prick! Do you really want Daddy’s attention so bad that you’ll let everything fall apart because he doesn’t like you?”

“Shut up Potter!” Draco growled.

“Harry…” Ron said, his eyes moving between Harry and Draco, not knowing what to do.

“Not now Ron,” both boys said. Harry’s annoyance took the better of him as he said, “You really think that your life is destroyed because of this damn paper? God Malfoy, you’re pathetic.”

“I am not a Malfoy!”

“Yes you are!” Harry yelled. “You’re Draco Malfoy and if you believe otherwise than you really are a pathetic ferret.”

Draco gave a strange sound from his throat as he tried to jump at Harry. Harry jumped out of the way and watched as his strong friend fell onto the snow. “Goddamn you Potter,” Draco growled out. “Goddamn you.”

Harry bent down calmly. An uncharacteristically cold smirk appeared on his face as his eyes glistened in strange happiness. “Who are you?” he whispered, his voice even and showing no emotion.

Draco looked up, at Harry. His face beet-red, eyes puffy and wide as he voice shook, “Draco Malfoy.”

“Good,” Harry said. “Good… remember that Malfoy, remember who you are. And where your loyalty lies.” Harry lightly tapped the side of his glasses with a smirk.

“Harry,” Draco whispered. “You’re green… all green.”

“Of course I am,” Harry said as he stood up. “I’m a changed boy.”

Draco sighed and stood up slowly, wiping the snow off of his pants and robes. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes again and looked at Ron. “I’m sorry… thank you Ron for everything, I’m feeling better now.”

Ron nodded and stood up. Draco seemed taller for some reason as Ron rested his head on Draco’s chest. “I have no idea what just happened,” Ron whispered. “But I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Ron smiled as one hand reached into his pocket. “I wanted to wait till later to show you this, hoping that this would help your mood… but why not now?” With a blushing smile Ron pulled out another letter. “It’s from my mum,” he blushed.

Draco gave a small chuckle and took the letter. “Whatever I read now will be immensely better than my father’s letter,” he sniffled.

Harry moved over his shoulder to read the letter from Mrs. Weasley as well.

_Ronald Weasley! How dare you not tell us about your boyfriend! Your father and I had to learn about it from Percy of all people, who for whatever stupid reason is still uncomfortable with Charlie and Andrei (he is such a sweet boy you should have seen how helpful he is around the house). You should have told me sooner Ron from yourself not your brother! And certainly you should have told me with enough time to make him a Christmas jumper! Oh what he must have thought seeing yourself and your brothers and sister wearing those jumpers and not him? I even brought extra wool to make sure I have enough for Andrei, Harry, and Hermione! I am very disappointed that you didn’t tell us earlier. Why you did not tell us, I can never even begin to think. Anyway, you better bring him over during summer break at least once so your father and I can meet him._

_Also if you would be a dear and tell Harry the same. I am equally disappointed that I had to learn so much about you boys’ lives from your brothers and not from you boys._

_Lots of Love,_

_Mum_

“She wants to meet me?” Draco said, a confused tone in his voice as his face scrunched up lightly. “But I’m a Malfoy! Or doesn’t she know that?”

“I’m sure she knows that by now… everybody saw us last night,” Ron blushed.

“Believe me I know,” Draco said with a small smirk, his usual attitude coming back to him. “It was part of a uh plan…”

“Did that plan included um… you know,” Harry whispered so Ron couldn’t hear Draco. “The Slytherins all seeing Tom? He told me about it last night before he returned to the diary.”

“No that was entirely him,” Draco said. “Although I do not know why but for whatever reason they cannot speak about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“When they tried talking to me this morning, their mouths… well they were sewed shut!” Draco said. “I do not know when he did it but Tom did something that made the Slytherins unable to talk about him.”

“Wow… that’s convenient,” Harry said.

“What is?” Ron asked.

Without missing a beat Harry said, “My boyfriend… he’s still in the closet, well partially in the closet to his parents, so he jinxed his Housemates so they couldn’t talk about it and the news wouldn’t reach his parents. … Like I said, Tom likes his privacy.”

Ron gave a low whistle. “Wow, strong wizard to do that eh? When am I going to meet him anyway?” he asked.

“Oh uhh… he… we were going to meet up with you, but we got… occupied,” Harry blushed.

Ron frowned and said, “Can’t we meet him today? There are no classes for us to go to.”

“Oh uhh he’s still sleeping,” Harry said. “I’m guessing that last night exhausted him.”

“Alright…” Ron said, he looked as if he didn’t trust Harry, or at least felt like Harry didn’t trust him. “Well when he wakes up. For now though… Draco, why don’t we umm take a walk?”

“Yeah sure,” Draco said. He took Ron’s hand in his and took the lead. “I’ll see you Harry… sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Harry said. “I hope you feel better.” He watched as Draco and Ron moved away from the bench, down the courtyard, and away into the grounds. Despite the cold Harry’s face remained emotionless as he stared at where Ron and Draco were only a second ago. He found that he couldn’t bring any emotion onto his face but he didn’t care. He just stood there, staring, his face a blank neutral expression as his eyes focused, unfocused, and refocused on the stone bench. He found his feet moving automatically as he turned from the stone bench and back into the castle.

Silently, he returned to Gryffindor Tower and said the password in a flat tone. Inside he moved past the lazy Gryffindors who lounged around talking in hushed and relaxed voices. He ignored Hermione who tried to get his attention (mainly about who his date was) and went to the boys’ dormitory. In his trunk he pulled out the Marauder’s Map as well as his Invisibility Cloak. He wrapped the Cloak on him and opened the Map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said as he tapped the map with his wand. The map folded open and Harry studied it for a while. Ron and Draco were walking the grounds; Dumbledore was in his office as well as Snape. Harry stared at his name and smiled when he saw that, just about it, was a label saying “ _Tom Riddle._ ”

 _Smart map_ , he mused. His emotionless expression remained and he began to walk. Invisible, Harry made his way out of the Gryffindor common room, following Seamus and Dean as they left the tower, and swept down to the dungeons; an eye was always on the map. When he reached the dungeons he had to slow down as Slytherins roamed.

“I’m just saying that there is no way that was Draco with Weasley,” a Slytherin’s voice said.

“Still he would choose that poof over me!” Parkinson’s voice whined. “What was he even thinking?”

“He wasn’t,” the first Slytherin said. Harry stood completely still as the two Slytherins came into view. Harry did his best to hug the cold walls of the dungeon and watched as the two Slytherins walked down his corridor and went down one of the many intersections. Harry watched their two dots, making sure that Parkinson and the other Slytherin were far away before he started moving again. Finding Snape’s office was easy; it was in the deepest part of the dungeon and right near the potions classrooms. In Snape’s office, according to the Marauder’s Map, is the castle’s storage room for all potion ingredients. The storage room was spacious with rows of ingredients filling the walls. Harry took the Invisibility Cloak off and placed it on a nearby table along with the Marauder’s Map.

“Syrup of hellebore, powdered moonstone, Asphodel, and beneberries,” Harry listed to himself as he pulled down the four ingredients. “A simple poison. Easy to make and easy to use in most situations,” he repeated to himself, his mind going back to a previous lesson he had with Tom. “Syrup of hellebore: blue-colored and used in a variety of potions. Mix two parts syrup of hellebore with a gram of powdered moonstone. Asphodel is a common lily found worldwide. Their powdered roots are used in the Draught of the Living Dead, but the plant by itself can quickly be used for a fast-acting poison. Just mix it in and let it dissolve in the boiling potion. Lastly baneberries for pain.”

Harry took the four ingredients and placed them all in a small cauldron found in the center of the storage room. He used his wand to light a fire under the cauldron and allowed it to start boiling. Checking the Marauder’s Map he quickly closed the door and locked it magically as he saw Snape’s dot leaving Dumbledore’s office. Harry knew that he should be feeling some sort of anxiety or fear, but for some reason he didn’t. Instead he just turned and continued working emotionlessly as the cauldron came to a roaring boil. He took a stirring rod and started stirring the potion clockwise until it turned from a sort of gray coloring to a solid dark blue. Every few seconds or so Harry’s eyes glanced at the Marauder’s Map to watch Snape’s progress as the professor took his time walking.

When Snape’s dot reached the stairs to the dungeon the potion was ready and a solid dark-blue coloring with no hints of gray. Harry took an empty phial off of the wall and filled it with the potion from the small cauldron. He was able to fill six phials with the potion before the cauldron was empty. Putting a spotter in each phial and pocketing them Harry calmly placed the ingredients back on the shelves. Looking at the Map again he saw that Snape was making his way back to his office. Putting the Invisibility Cloak on Harry left the storage room and Snape’s office. He met up with Snape in the corridors and hugged the walls as the professor went by uninterrupted. Harry stayed in his spot again, waiting with a patience that is unlike him as Snape entered his office and closed the door behind him.

Harry moved immediately returning to the Gryffindor Tower and back into his dormitory. Placing the Invisibility Cloak back into his trunk as well as the Marauder’s Map, Harry checked his watch to see the time. _An hour to lunch,_ he thought to himself. Taking his Firebolt Harry made sure that nobody was in the dormitory as he walked near a large window. Unhooking a hook the window swung open into the air and Harry poked his head down. Seeing nobody Harry tapped his wand against his glasses a few time and smiled when he felt his glasses change into his black mask. Mounting his Firebolt, Harry left Gryffindor Tower and headed towards his destination.

Moving faster than the wind, the scenery around Harry turned only into blurs as he flew through the air getting further and further away from Hogwarts with each and every second. For the first time Harry did not enjoy the sensation of flying as instead he continued to feel the strange oddity that began ever since he read the letter from Lucius Malfoy. The diary burning against his body in his pocket, Harry took a breath and thought _I’m sorry Tom, but I need to do this for Draco… for Ron. I don’t care what you’ll do to me._

It took Harry three hours to reach his destination. He got lost only once but quickly found his way again once he landed in London and stole a look at a tourist’s map of the country. Malfoy Manor stood tall in front of Harry as he landed in front of its great front doors. Behind Harry was a gravel driveway towards the Manor with a large hedge curving around it. The manor itself was handsome; lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows. Somewhere beyond the hedge in the dark gardens was a fountain playing. The front doors swung open and Harry walked in, leaving his broom leaning on the wall next to the doors as he looked around his friend’s home. The entrance hallway was large, dimly-lit and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of pale-faced portraits followed Harry as he strode past.

At the end of the entrance hall was a bronze-handled door that led into the drawing room. The room was large with a large ornate table. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. With no fear inside him, Harry moved through the empty drawing room and stopped at the end of the ornate table where there were two sets of dining ware set. One at the head of the table and the other on the right. Taking one phial of the poison Harry poured the poison into the cup intended for Mrs. Malfoy and smiled at the dark-blue potion melded with the red wine Mrs. Malfoy will be drinking for her supper. Harry looked around the room and couldn’t help but smirk when he saw an armchair in the corner, obviously for the head of house to sit in as he waits for his guests hidden from view. Harry sat down covered in the shadows and waited for dinner to start.

Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy silently walked into the drawing room ten minutes later. Harry watched as they sat down in their seats and Lucius took the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_ that waited next to his plate. Mrs. Malfoy took a small sip from his wineglass and watched Lucius for a moment as he skimmed the article titles. “We are lucky so far,” Lucius said. “There is no mention of Draco’s sodomy in this paper. However I’ll have to visit the Ministry tomorrow to finalize the poof’s renouncement.”

Mrs. Malfoy took another sip of her wine and placed it down. “As long as he can no longer be connected with us, I am fine. Although I still stand by my opinion that we should have tried harder. If he did not find neither girls attractive, then we should maybe have look at some older women to push him to the right direction. Perhaps one of the Carrow sisters? Or we could have tried molding a pureblood who isn’t in his House.”

“Both options are not worth the headache and money it would take to change the boy,” Lucius said. “And until they develop a potion or spell to forcefully change genders then we are stuck. It will be a headache to deal with but this is the only way Narcissa.”

“If you insist. I still believe that we could have pushed Draco past this phrase,” Narcissa said as she took another drink from her wine. She frowned and looked at her husband. “Lucius. This is the wine I have picked out correct?”

“Of course it is, why are you asking,” Lucius asked as he took a sip from his own glass of wine.

Harry couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the poison begin to work in Narcissa. The woman’s face began to turn blue as her throat closed. She gasped pitfully for air, her hands clawing at her neck, her nails scrapping at the skin and drawing little blood as he continued to choke and cough.

“Narcissa!” Lucius yelled out standing in shock.

Harry took that as his cue to stand. “You can’t save her,” he said simply. “Her wine was poisoned. She’ll be gone soon.”

“Who—What are you doing in my house?” Lucius snarled as Harry stepped into the light. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. Instead his face was still emotionless behind his half-mask. His emerald eyes shimmering as he watched Narcissa Malfoy choke to death. Lucius grabbed for his wand but Harry moved with skill and speed he never knew he had and disarmed the Death Eater before he had a chance.

“I am the Dark Prince, heir to the Dark Lord Voldemort,” Harry said slowly his wand aimed directly at Lucius. “And you, Lucius Malfoy, are a traitor to both your family and your Lord’s cause.”

Lucius laughed mockingly and said, “You? Heir to the Dark Lord? What a ridiculous notion. Little boy, you are speaking of things you know little of.”

“And you are a monstrous coward who would throw your son away and ignore your true allegiance instead of pretending that you are strong…” Harry said.

“What are you talking about boy?” Lucius asked.

“You planned to disown Draco because of his sexuality. An idiot move to be sure, especially since Draco is thrice the wizard you could ever be,” Harry said. “If only you knew the strength Draco had… after all he is an Aura-Reader.”

“A what—“

“Don’t interrupt!” Harry barked. “You tried throwing Draco out of the Malfoy family, an act that I simply cannot allow. You see, the Malfoy family is quite influential and thus important to the Dark Lord’s plans. I was hoping that I would not have to intervene in your family affairs, but after seeing the effects that you caused Draco I cannot stay my hand. It will be smoother and easier for both the Dark Lord and myself with Draco as Head of the family. Of course in order for that to happen both your wife and yourself need to disappear.”

“So you intend to kill me boy?” Lucius laughed. “In my own household? I must commend you for your foolish bravery boy, but bravery will only take you so far. Now, hand back my wand and I might decide to let you die swiftly for murdering my wife.”

“No. _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Harry roared borrowed power fueling the spell. A green jet of light shot from Harry’s wand and hit Lucius Malfoy. The man fell to the floor dead and Harry stood in place pushing down the extreme sickness that surged from his stomach. Breathing through his nose Harry waited until he was sure he wouldn’t throw up in Draco’s home. When he felt his stomach settling down Harry made his way out of the manor and aimed Mr. Malfoy’s wand in the air. Using power that isn’t his own Harry yelled out “ _Morsmordre!_ ” A colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue formed. It rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the setting sky above the Manor.

Harry threw Lucius’ wand into the hedge and mounted his Firebolt leaving the scene of his crime. He made sure to change his mask into his glasses as he flew. It was midnight when he returned to Hogwarts, the window in Gryffindor Tower fortunately still open as he gently hovered into the dormitory and slowly lowered to the floor. The strange odd feeling inside him left and Harry ran to the bathroom, dropping the Firebolt onto the ground as he barely knelt over the toilet before he started throwing up.

 _What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?_ Harry cried to himself. _Oh god! I’m a murderer! Oh god, oh god, oh god!_ His skin felt clammy and paled as a cold sweat drenched his forehead.

“Harry? Are you okay?” Ron’s voice called out. Harry threw up in response and coughed. He immediately felt a pair of hands on his shoulder. “Harry! Where were you? What happened?”

“I—I—“ Harry barely got a word out as he felt sickness overwhelm him again. Empting his stomach for a fourth time Harry spat into the toilet. Ron wiped his hair away from his eyes and rubbed his back. “I did something horrible…” Harry breathed. “I… I felt like it wasn’t me when I did it…Draco is going to hate me. Please Ron don’t tell him!”

“What did you do Harry? Please tell me,” Ron begged softly. Tears welled in Harry’s eyes as he turned to Ron. With a violently shaking hand he pulled out a phial of poison and said “I poisoned Draco’s parents… they’re… they’re… oh god!”

“Harry… you…” Ron said flabbergasted staring at his friend. Harry nodded, his eyes closed.

“I wanted to help Draco!” Harry cried out. “He was so heartbroken… his parents were going to destroy his future! I couldn’t… I couldn’t… oh god Ron please don’t hate me!”

“Hate you? Harry… I don’t… I don’t hate you Harry,” Ron said, “but… to go that far… to _kill_. What are you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Harry frowned. “It was as if I was another person… I used spells I don’t even know. I casted the Dark Mark over the manor with Mr. Malfoy’s wand. … Ron what am I going to do?”

Ron thought for a moment than said, “Nothing. You said you’ve placed the Dark Mark over the house? Then they’ll think that Death Eaters killed them. I think it’s best if everyone thinks that. … Let’s forget this even happened. For all we know you spent the entire day here with your boyfriend. Okay?”

“Ron… thank you,” Harry said. He fell into Ron’s arms and hugged him deeply. Harry cried and allowed his friend to help him to his feet. Slowly the two moved from the toilet to the sink and Ron took Harry’s glasses off. Harry washed his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Same face, same green eyes, same black hair, same cheeks, same pouty lips and yet… he felt different. _I guess that’s what murder does to you,_ he mused sadly. He took out the remaining phials of poison and poured them all down the drain. Ron helped him to his bed and opened his covers.

Harry kicked his shoes and socks off and barely dropped the empty phials into his nightstand drawer before collapsing into sleep.

Harry woke up to the picture of Malfoy Manor on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ with the caption “LUCIUS AND NARCISSA MALFOY FOUND DEAD AT HOME! DEATH EATER ATTACK?”

_Earlier this morning Wiltshire woke up to see a ghastly sight: The Dark Mark towering over Malfoy Manor. Now the Ministry of Magic are left wondering who or what could have left the mark as well as who the possible murderer of Lucius,41, and Narcissa Malfoy,39. The bodies of the Malfoys were found by one of their numerous house-elves as they were cleaning their evening dinner. The Ministry was called immediately and Aurors rushed to the household to investigate the murders of the heads of one of the most influential Wizarding families. Head Auror Kingsley Shaklebolt was first to arrive at the scene and described the gruesome scene._

_“We found the bodies in the drawing room,” Shaklebolt reported, “They were near their chairs: Narcissa Malfoy seemed to fall from her seat and Lucius Malfoy was found about a few inches away from his own seat. After several examinations we’ve found traces of poison in Mrs. Malfoy’s cup but none in Mr. Malfoy’s. While cause of death is not final it is most likely that Mrs. Malfoy was poisoned while Mr. Malfoy was killed with an Unforgivable Curse.”_

_Another interesting thing, Shaklebolt noted, was that earlier that night the Improper Use of Magic Office was alerted to activity in Malfoy Manor by the Trace. “We are currently looking into that,” Shaklebolt said when asked about the alert. “From the looks of it, there might be a coincident and one of their neighbors’ children were close enough to have the alert go off at the time of the murder. The possibility that an underage wizard committed the crime is unlikely, but still a possibility. We are not closing any doors for this crime at this moment.”_

_Whoever the murderer is, underage wizard or no, the murder is surely to be the talk of town as both Malfoys leave their sole son Draco Malfoy, 14, an orphan. Draco, who is currently attending Hogwarts and was fortunate to decide to stay at the school during the break, was unable to comment on this tragedy. However he will be comforted to know that the entire work force of the_ Daily Prophet _is with him during this troubling time._

Harry’s eyes looked up at the Slytherin table to find Draco. He looked more depressed than sad as he just sat there. The other Slytherins just stared at him along with the rest of the Great Hall. Some tried to go near him including Parkinson and Greengrass but Draco just gave them an empty look before looking down at his untouched breakfast. There was movement from the staff table and Harry watched as Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore moved towards the Slytherin table. They stopped on either side of Draco and his friend silently stood and followed the two professors out down the length of the Great Hall and out into the entrance hall.

“I’d better follow him,” Ron said standing. He barely looked at Harry as he rushed after his boyfriend.

“Horrible,” Hermione said next to Harry. “We know that Mr. Malfoy is… well… he’s not the nicest person in the world, but who would break into his home and do this?” she looked at Harry both shocked and worried. “Harry? Are you okay? You’re looking rather pale.”

“Yeah… yeah I’m fine,” Harry lied. He looked at the _Daily Prophet_ again and frowned, his stomach dropping as he read the article again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

Draco didn’t know how to feel. He just sat staring out into an abyss that only he could see. Dumbledore and Professor Snape brought him to the headmaster’s office to talk with him in private again. Professor Snape, as a family friend favor, offered to handle funeral arrangements. Draco just nodded and said nothing. He felt like his voice was stolen. Only yesterday he and Ron were crying from the letter his father wrote and now… they’re both gone. Draco couldn’t process the fact. He knew what Dumbledore and Professor Snape told him early that morning when word first reached the Ministry. They were found dead in the drawing room. Mother poisoned; Father killed by the Killing Curse. The Dark Mark hanging over the manor. … Draco couldn’t understand who would want to kill his parents? The Death Eaters are their allies, their friends… who would be so selfish enough to kill them? And for what gain? Draco needed to know. He needed to know why his parents died, why there was a Dark Mark hanging over their house, and more importantly who. Who was demented enough to commit this act?

His first thought was his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. But she’s still in Azkaban with most of the Dark Lord’s fanatics. And the followers who aren’t in Azkaban… they’re not stupid enough to commit the act. At least Draco hoped they weren’t.

He listened as Dumbledore and Professor Snape explain how he’ll need to visit Gringotts in order to speak about what will happen with the manor, ideally having the deed transfer directly to Draco. Draco just nodded and looked out the windows to the snowy morning.

“The funeral is in three days,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve arranged so that you can go and stay at your home for a week, it is a hard time but I find that surrounding yourself with family is—“

“I’ll only go for the funeral,” Draco said softly. “I don’t want to stay there.”

Dumbledore stared at Draco again for a short time before nodding. “Then Professor Snape will accompany you on the day of the funeral. Now, with your visit to Gringotts, I suggest you head there immediately.”

“Fine,” Draco said, his eyes still outside. He made to stand but Dumbledore stopped him.

“If you do not mind, I will accompany you as Headmaster,” Dumbledore said.

Draco couldn’t find the strength to argue. He looked up at Dumbledore, at his golden aura, and knew that Dumbledore could see his green aura. Draco wondered why Dumbledore would want to come with him, could he want to make sure he… never mind, Draco couldn’t find the strength to even think of possibilities. Instead he just stood up fully and moved looked for a fireplace. Dumbledore stood from his desk and opened a draw, pulling out a tin of floo powder. “Next to the wardrobe,” he told Draco who quickly found the common-looking fireplace.

“After you Draco,” Dumbledore said holding out the tin. Draco took the floo powder and threw it at the extinguished fire. “Gringotts,” he said neutrally. Green flames blazed and Draco stepped through.

The halls of Gringotts were filled with wizards and goblins as the goblins moved through the crowds carrying large ledgers or large bags of Galleons, Sickles, or Knuts. The marble hall seemed to be full with hushed whispers as wizards tried to make their transactions and leave and goblins wanting nothing to do with them. Draco just looked at them blankly as he waited for Dumbledore. The Headmaster stepped through the fireplace a second later and smiled cheerfully at Draco. “Come along Draco,” he said. “Let’s see if one of these nice fellows won’t help us.”

Draco just followed Dumbledore as the old man made his way to the nearest goblin. “Excuse me. We are here regarding the deed to Malfoy Manor and the Malfoy vaults. I am Albus Dumbledore, and I am accompanying my student Draco Malfoy, here,” Dumbledore said.

The goblin looked up from his large ledger, his quill hovering over his small handwriting. Draco paid no particular attention to its looks as the goblin looked from Dumbledore to Draco. “And does Mr. Malfoy have his key?” the goblin asked.

“Yes,” Draco said listlessly. He pulled out his copy of the vault keys and showed it to the goblin.

“Yes… deeds… follow me,” the goblin ordered. He placed his quill down and hopped off of his chair. The goblin led Dumbledore and Draco down the marble hall and towards a small wooden door. The goblin stopped outside the door and turned to Dumbledore. “The boy only. You wait,” he said.

“Are you sure? He is still a minor, would it not be better if a legal adult was with him?” Dumbledore asked.

“Customs. Only family members and those written in the wills are allowed,” the goblin said. “The chair’s there.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said quite too cheerfully. “Draco, I will be waiting here until you have finished your business. If you need any help, you will know where to find me.”

Draco just turned to the door and walked into it as the goblin opened it. The door led to a small office with a desk far too big for a goblin with chairs far too wide. On the walls were small drawers all of them labeled with a gold plaque over a silver knob. The small drawers lined the walls, leaving no place for any windows or portraits. If it weren’t for the door Draco would have sworn that the walls were made of the numerous drawers. “Sit,” the goblin said pointing a long finger at a red armchair in front of the desk.

Draco moved to the armchair and sat down. He watched as the goblin lit two candles on either side of the wide desk then pulled out a step ladder. Silently the goblin moved towards the wall to Draco’s left, placed the step ladder on the ground, climbed it, pulled open a drawer, pulled out three documents, closed the drawer, climbed down the step ladder, and placed the three documents in front of Draco. Leaving the ladder where it was, the goblin moved to the chair too big for it and sat down. “Wills and the manor deed. Read them, sign them,” the goblin said briskly.

Draco nodded and pulled the top document to him. It was his father’s will. He took his time reading over it, reading the listings of what his father owned including multiple dark artifacts, many businesses, and of course the family manor. Draco only understood most of what his father wrote; certain amounts of money are to be donated to selected organizations to save face with the rest going to Draco as his only heir. _It seems father died before he could fix that mistake,_ Draco thought bitterly. He looked at the goblin and asked “Is there anything I have to do to make sure our incomes don’t filter out?”

“Read them then sign,” the goblin said again.

Draco frowned but nodded. He read his mother’s will next, naming Draco as her own heir as well. Last was the manor deed which detailed specific instructions on how the manor would be taken care of, how many house elves are allowed to work on the property, as well as having the signer hold the title of Lord Malfoy, a title that Draco’s father rarely used. Draco asked for a quill and ink and the goblin pulled a random drawer. The quill seemed ancient looking and the ink was a crusted red color. Still it worked fine as Draco dipped the quill and signed his name on the deed. He did the same with both wills and the goblin snatched all three of them before the ink had any time to dry. He rolled them up carelessly, went up the step ladder, placed the documents in the drawer again, slammed the drawer shut, climbed down the step ladder, folded it, placed it back where he found it, and pointed to the door. “Out.”

Draco stood from his seat and followed the goblin out of the room of drawers. Draco looked to his right to see Dumbledore reading from a knitting magazine. “You are done?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling from under his half-moon spectacles. Draco just stared at the golden aura surrounding Dumbledore and felt sick.

“No,” the goblin said. “Follow me.”

Dumbledore stood from his seat and followed Draco and the goblin back to the goblin’s seat and ledger. The goblin opened another drawer and pulled out a slip of paper. “Sign then bring to the Ministry of Magic today,” he ordered.

Draco just looked down at the slip of paper, getting lost in the long useless words. It felt like his wit was leaving him. “A notice of Lordship?” Dumbledore said. “Don’t you think it is too early for this? After all Draco here is still a minor, not even fifteen. He has three more years of education ahead of him.”

“Mr. Malfoy has to sign and bring it to the Ministry or risk losing his lordship,” the goblin said. “Sign.”

Dumbledore frowned. “So soon after his parents’ deaths…” he muttered.

“Purebloods must attain lordships of their fathers or else they lose it,” the goblin warned Dumbledore.

“I am very aware of that law,” Dumbledore commented. “It is an old antique law that only few follow.”

“Malfoys follow. The boy signs,” the goblin said again thrusting the quill and ink into Draco’s hands and thrusting an annoyed finger at the bottom of the slip of paper where a long line waited for Draco’s signature.

Dumbledore gave a sigh and shook his head. “I am sorry to only add more grief onto you Draco, but the choice is up to you. It is an antique law that your friends Harry and Ron do not follow.”

Draco couldn’t bring himself to feel shock that Dumbledore know of his friendship with Harry and dating Ron. He just stared at the slip of paper. It was short, small enough to roll into his pocket and declared the bank’s acknowledgment of the signer’s lordship. Draco looked up at the goblin and asked, “What does Lordship contain?”

“Nowadays it is just a title,” Dumbledore commented, “but in the past Lordship showed class, blood purity, and elitism in Wizarding society. Seats in the Wizengamot used to be inherited by family, meaning that Lords were always in the Wizengamot and had a level of influence over the laws that passed. This proved troubling as personal interest overcame the good of Magical Britain and the Minister of Magic was forced to change it.”

Draco looked at the slip of paper and frowned. His father never told him of the lordship. And he couldn’t help but worry that if he didn’t sign then he would lose everything.

“You already have inherited your home if that is what you are worried about,” Dumbledore shrugged. “And you do not need this trouble at this time Draco.”

Draco stared at the piece of paper. He could hear his father’s voice snarling at him. He was telling Draco to not let the family down while sneering at his homosexuality. The duel voices chanted, one telling Draco “The Malfoy honor rests on your shoulders boy, do what is right for the family” and the other, “Stuff your poofness away and act like a real man Draco. I will not allow a faggot in my family.” Draco stared at the quill in his hand as it quivered the two voices still raging. Then he placed the quill down and shook his head. “I don’t want it,” he breathed.

The goblin stared at Draco for a moment before saying “Very well.” He gathered the slip of paper, quill and ink bottle and looked at Draco and Dumbledore. “Is there any other business?” he asked. Draco shook his head. “Then good day,” the goblin said going back to his ledger.

“Good day,” Dumbledore repeated nodding his head slightly.

Draco followed silently as Dumbledore went to the side of the marble hall where a small line of marble fireplaces waited. This time Dumbledore went first with Draco following. Back in Dumbledore’s office Draco barely heard whatever it is that Dumbledore talked about before he was dismissed.

Draco immediately made his way back to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room where it seemed the whole house was waiting for him. “Draco,” Parkinson said. She moved forward, “it must be hard for you… being the new Lord Malfoy. … and your parents being dead. But every Lord needs a Lady so why don’t we—“

“Away!” Draco screamed, his grey eyes bulging. He scrambled to get his wand out and aimed it at Parkinson and everyone else. “Away!” he yelled again. “Everyone! Just everyone!” He freaked out.

The rest of the Slytherins stared at Draco and Draco stared back at them. Then without putting his wand away, he bolted for his dormitory. He screamed an inhuman noise at anyone who was in his way on the stairway and screamed again when he saw Crabbe and Goyle sleeping in their beds. The two idiots fled and, finally alone, Draco closed the door and cried an ugly cry. He leaned against the wall and slid down as he gave loud whines, his face blazing red and tears already falling. He felt his chest feel constricted as he wept, snot began to ooze from his nostrils as he continued to cry. Soon his throat felt scratchy and dry as he began to cough before crying again.

“Draco… Draco, can I come in?” Blaise’s voice asked. Draco nodded before realizing that he couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he coughed out.

The door opened hesitantly and Draco looked up to see Blaise and Nott walking in, Nott holding a cup of water. “I thought you would need this Draco,” Nott said as he handed it to him.

“Thanks…”

Blaise and Nott waited as Draco took several small sips, feeling the water rehydrate his throat but still he felt the scratchy feeling. He coughed and tried to clear his throat multiple times. Nott frowned and snapped his fingers. A house-elf appeared looking very scared in his tea-towel toga bearing the Hogwarts crest. “Tea with honey,” Nott snapped. The elf disappeared and Nott turned his attention to Draco. “How are you feeling?”

Draco looked up at both of them and frowned. “Horrible,” he said. “Yesterday I was feeling awful, I hated my parents because of their letter… I hated them so much that… there were several times I wished they were gone or hurt badly. And now they’re dead. My parents are dead… Is it my fault? Did I cause my parents to be killed? I feel so guilty.”

“That’s nonsense and you know it,” Blaise said. “You didn’t kill your parents Draco, there’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I know but still… I hated them so much yesterday. My father’s last written words to me were those of hated disappointment. I… I wrote a letter to him and mother… I was going to fight them for this try to change their opinions. But now I can’t. Blaise they died _hating_ me. Hating my boyfriend…I wanted to change that,” Draco said depressed.

Blaise and Nott looked at each other confused. They didn’t know how to handle this so Blaise said awkwardly, “So when’s the funeral?”

“Three days,” Draco said. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle it. … Just thinking of seeing all of my father’s and mother’s associates…they’ll all be asking me about business plans both legal and illegal.”

“Does Dumbledore know?” Nott asked.

Draco shook his head, “The goblin and I were in a separate room,” he said. “And there was only a list of the dark artifacts my father… I own.”

“What about during the summer?” Blaise asked. “Who’s going to take care of you?”

Draco looked up shocked. He actually didn’t think of that. He didn’t want to think of that. He didn’t want to have his thoughts even get close to that. Shaking his head he said, “No… I don’t know… I didn’t even thought…” Tears started again as he cried. “I’m supposed to be the damn strong one,” he muttered darkly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m supposed to be the strong one in my relationship!” Draco yelled out again. “But Ron only cried to me once when I… I kept crying… god Ron must think I’m weak.” Draco stared down at his lap blankly.

Nott and Blaise only looked at each other. A silence fell over them as the three boys didn’t move: Draco on the floor and Blaise and Nott standing uncertain. Both boys didn’t know how to approach Draco or even what to say. It was as if Draco’s mind was moving a thousand miles an hour and he was just worrying about anything his mind landed on.

“Shut up, you’re not weak,” Blaise said. “You’re Draco Malfoy the strongest wizard I know.”

Draco gave a bitter laugh. “Don’t feel like it,” he said. “I’m taller, sure I’m younger by three months but still… I’m the one teaching him, I’m the one showing him the Dark Arts… why am I the one crying then?”

“I don’t know…” Blaise said slowly he looked at Nott who just shook his head.

The house elf took this time to appear with a cup of tea. The loud snap of the house elf got Draco’s attention and he glared at the elf as its arms shook towards Draco. The Slytherin snatched the tea and just glared at the house-elf angry that the creature saw him in this pitiful state. “Leave,” he snarled at the elf which disappeared with a crack.

Silence returned again as Draco tried to control his anger, forcing himself to take several sips of the tea. He could feel the back of his throat healing with the honeyed tea. Nott and Blaise just waited as Draco drank staring at nothing as he fought back the tears. When he was done with his drink he looked at both Blaise and Nott. “Do not tell anyone,” he said.

“Of course not,” they swore. “But Draco,” Blaise said with concern, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“No, I’m not,” Draco said as he stood up. He gave the cup to Blaise and moved to his bed where he stayed for the rest of the day.

Time moved too quickly for Draco. The next day was spent with Ron in solitude. Ron told Draco that for some reason Hermione wasn’t happy that he was leaving to spend time with Ron while Harry was surprisingly missing. Letters from the Minister as well as old families came in sending their respects for Draco and his lost. Several of them from his father’s associates addressed him as “Lord Malfoy” which only made his stomach boil.

Before Draco was ready it was time for the funeral. It was to be taken place in the gardens at his manor. Professor Snape woke Draco early for that day and he dressed in black mourning robes before following Snape into his office where they floo’d home.

The manor felt different, both lighter yet sadder as the house elves The entrance hall had a memorial for both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, there were flowers that surrounded a portrait of the deceased. Of course the flowers were the most expensive money could buy and Draco just knew that his mother brought them beforehand just for her and her husband’s death. Flowers seemed to filled the halls but Draco didn’t pay attention to any of them as Snape guided him into the gardens.

Silver chairs stood in rows on the snow-covered lawn all of them facing two coffins that looked to be made of pure silver with an eloquent design. Over the two coffins was an arch again with a portrait of Lucius and Narcissa and tiny crystals hanging symmetrically. “Your mother’s plans. All of them,” Snape said. “You are to sit here and greet the mourners as they come,” he pointed to a silver chair in the front that faced the others. “I will be back later.”

“Where are you going?” Draco asked.

“I’ve lessons to finish back at the castle,” Snape said. “I will be back later to escort you back to the castle.” Draco watched as he turned and left him alone in the garden.

Draco sat down in his chair and waited, his mind whirling as he waited for the guests. The first one arrived five minutes later. “Ah Lord Malfoy, so sorry about your lost,” the old wizard frowned. Draco took his hand and shook it politely. “Thank you very much Yaxley,” Draco said, “and I am no lord.”

“Oh… pity,” Yaxley said his hand jerking back to his side and his eyes losing any sympathy there was in there. “I am surprised you are alone here,” Yaxley continued looking around. “Where is the Greengrass girl? Or is it Parkinson? I forgot which family your father decided with.”

“Greengrass, but neither are with me as I am currently dating someone else,” Draco said again. He could practically feel the disappointment from the old wizard as he moved to sit in the front row.

“Do you think that is wise? Knowing now that you are disregarding your deceased father’s wishes?” Yaxley asked.

 _I am already disregarding it with my sexuality,_ Draco thought. He stared at the old man and studied him for a while, particularly his aura which was an old faded green color. “If I am disregarding my father’s wishes is none of your regard currently,” Draco answered.

“That may be but still it others would think it rude of you to throw out your father’s wishes as you did with the title of Lordship,” Yaxley said.

“Then they shouldn’t think about that today,” Draco said. “Today is about my parents.”

“It is,” Yaxley nodded. He looked at the two coffins and sighed. “Such a waste. They were both good people. To be killed so close to our Lord’s return. Have your father mentioned that Draco? Our Dark Marks are returning.” The old man pulled his sleeve and showed Draco his wrist.

“No he did not,” Draco said his eyes looking elsewhere but the Dark Mark.

“Shame,” Yaxley said. “At least he started your education in the Dark Arts, correct? Our Lord will need a Malfoy when he returns.”

“I am practicing the Dark Arts, that is correct,” Draco said. He looked around the garden and almost wished that more guests would arrive.

Four more people arrived, being led by a house elf and Draco felt ill when he recognized Lord Parkinson and Lord Greengrass. Mr. Parkinson was a fat man with doggish characteristics whereas Mr. Greengrass always reminded Draco of a walking gargoyle. “Lord Parkinson, Lord Greengrass,” Draco said politely.

“Lord Malfoy,” Parkinson said with a small sneer.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Yaxley corrected. “He chose not to inherit his father’s lordship.”

Both men glared down at Draco. “Is that so?” Greengrass asked. “Is this before or after he refused our daughters for a blood traitor’s son?”

“A blood traitor’s son?” Yaxley asked. “Mr. Malfoy forgot to mention that part.” He gave Draco a stare; the blond could practically feel the disapproval from the three men. He knew if he didn’t say something they would hound him about it for the rest of the day.

“I will not waste my breath arguing about who I am dating with you three today,” Draco said. “Today is about my parents.”

“Clearly it is, and the disappointment they would feel knowing that their son is a blood traitor poof,” Parkinson said. “You are lucky you did not bring it here today or else there would be another murder!”

“Parkinson! Really, now is not the time to talk like that,” Yaxley said. “Speaking of murder right in front of a boy whose parents were recently murdered themselves. We will speak of this scandal on a later time and hopefully come up with a better solution that will save the grace of the Malfoy name.”

Both men just gave short nods before walking to their seats. Draco glared at the three men feeling his stomach boiling again as they insult his dear Ron. After the three more people came to filter in constantly, all of them shaking his hand and calling him “Lord Malfoy” if they were from old pure-blood families before going back to their seats. The Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge himself was last to arrive. He took Draco’s hand in both of his and said, “So sorry for your lost Mr. Malfoy. I uh cannot stay here but just know that you have my regards as well as the regards from my staff. Your father was a close associate of mine.”

“Thank you Minister…” Draco said. The Minister hesitated as if expecting Draco to say some more before turning to leave. The funeral director, a short wizard, made himself known and Draco ignored his speech completely as he stared out at the crowd in front of him, a mixture of greens and golds spread out ahead of him. He focused more on the old Death Eaters, his eyes moving slowly between each person as he thought: _One of these people killed my parents… I just know it._

But who? Draco couldn’t even begin to guess. They each had the potential. Yaxley, Parkinson, Greengrass, Goyle, Crabbe, Travers, Dolohov, the Carrow siblings _(Shouldn’t they be Azkaban? Maybe it was them_ Draco frowned), the Averys, and even one of the non-Death Eaters could have done it. There were too many probabilities for Draco to think of. But one thing that Draco was certain of: No one in the crowd was crying.

The director stopped talking and stepped to the side as Yaxley stood. Draco only listened for a moment before again staring at the crowd his eyes moving from emotionless face to emotionless face. Draco knew that he was the only one truly sadden by his parents deaths, not even Ron was sad that they were dead. No Draco knew that Ron was saddened by the fact that Draco was filled with grief. But he didn’t blame Ron, he couldn’t, his family and the Malfoys didn’t have the nicest relationship. But still knowing that he was the only one truly grieving their deaths… it made Draco wonder who would cry when he died. Would his funeral be the same? With a crowd surrounding his coffin but nobody truly crying? Draco felt depressed thinking about it.

When Yaxley was done the crowd looked at Draco expectedly. Confused and sadden Draco snapped out of his thoughts and looked around. Were they expecting a speech from him? Draco felt like he couldn’t move, his body was frozen in his seat as he just stared out at the green auras that surrounding him, one of them belonging to his parents’ murderer. Whispers started in the crowd as Draco stayed seated. When it was obvious that Draco wasn’t going to give a speech the crowd began to leave, none of them saying goodbye or giving their regards to Draco.

In five minutes it was only Draco, the two coffins, and the funeral director. “Now umm… Mr. Malfoy… your parents are to be buried in the family graveyard as they specified in their directions,” the director said. “Would you like to come with them?”

Draco nodded and found that he could move again. The director used his wand to levitate the coffins and the two walked through the garden and towards the back where a small plot of land laid utterly untouched. Several elaborate tombstones laid in rows, the newest two standing over two adjacent holes in the ground. The director lowered his wand and Draco watched silently as his parents descend to their final resting place. The director looked at Draco and asked, “Would you like a couple of minutes with your parents alone?”

Draco shook his head, “N-No,” he said doing his best to keep his voice steady.

“Very well,” the director said. He looked at the two coffins and flicked his wand. Dirt started to fill the holes, covering the coffins and piling up until the ground was flat again as if the two graves were never there. He director sighed and shook his head. “I am truly sorry for your lost Mr. Malfoy,” he said.

“Thank you,” Draco found himself saying as the director left. He turned to the two tombstones and just stared at them for a few moments his stomach boiling with grief and anger. He didn’t know how long he stayed staring at the graves. He would have continued standing there, staring as his stomach boiled if it weren’t for Professor Snape appearing behind him to bring him back to Hogwarts. Draco didn’t look back as he and Professor Snape left the graveyard. It was only until he was safely alone in the Slytherin common room that Draco allowed his frustration and emotions to explode anew.

 

Classes started again, the second task was coming closer and closer, and Harry found himself alone in the Prefect bathroom. He didn’t know how he survived not telling Draco the truth. He heard of his friend crying, heard the rumors from the Slytherins of Draco’s depressed mood and seen it himself. Harry has done everything he could to block out the memory of the night of the murder that most of the time he convinced himself that he did not even leave Hogwarts that night.

The bathroom was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier, and everything was made of white marble, including what looked like an empty rectangular swimming pool sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edges, each with a differently colored jewel set into its handle. Long white lien curtains hung at the windows’ a large pile of fluffy  white towels sat in a corner, and there was a single golden-framed paintings on the wall. It featured a blonde mermaid who was fast asleep on a rock, her long hair over her face.

Harry moved forward, looking around, his footsteps echoing off the walls. Magnificent through the bathroom was—and quite keen though he was to try out a few of those taps—now he was here he couldn’t quite suppress the feeling that Cedric might have been having him on. How on earth was this supposed to help solve the mystery of the egg? Nevertheless, he put one of the fluffy towels, the Invisibility Cloak, the map, and the egg at the side of the swimming-pool-sized bath, then knelt down and turned on a few of the taps.

He could tell at once that they carried different sorts of bubble bath mixed with the water, though it wasn’t bubble bath as Harry had ever experienced it. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs; another poured ice-white foam so thick that Harry thought it would have supported his weight if he’d cared to test it’ a third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. Harry assumed himself for a while turning the taps on and off, particularly enjoying the effect of one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. Then, when the deep pool was full of hot water, foam, and bubbles, which took a very short time, Harry turned off all the taps, pulled off his pajamas, slippers, and dressing gown, and slid into the water.

It was so deep that his feet barely touched the bottom and he actually did a couple of lengths before swimming back to the side and treading water, staring at the egg. He picked it up and held it over the water.

“Harry.” A voice said angrily. In his shock Harry dropped the egg into the water and turned to see Tom sitting on the edge of the bath looking semi-corporal.

“Tom!” Harry said smiling. “You’re back.”

“What were you thinking?” Tom snarled. “Were you even thinking when you did that? Did you actually think that you could hide it from me? We are connected Harry, your soul is mine, your mind is mine. I know everything you think of as long as I have your soul. So tell me Harry: Why did you kill Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?”

“I—“

“Why did you even think of doing something so stupid? Years of planning in jeopardy because you decided to act on your own. Do you know what you have done? What you have committed?” Tom asked.

“I was just… I wanted to help Draco—“

“By killing his parents? Are two orphans not good enough? You had to bring him down to our level?” Tom asked.

“Don’t say that,” Harry said angrily. “You didn’t read the letter they sent him! You didn’t see him and Ron crying! You—“

“Don’t act on my emotions,” Tom finished. “I know the letter and their reaction but think Harry. For one second use everything I’ve taught you for the last two years and think! I know you are not stupid, I’ve cultivated that mind inside of you so think!”

Harry just stared at Tom. He could feel frustrated tears form in his eyes. His mouth gapped a couple of times before he said, “Do you think that I wanted to do it? Do you Tom? I didn’t! I didn’t want to do it. But I did, it was like… it was like I was another person! I wasn’t controlling my actions it was like that stupid piece of _your_ soul was controlling me! Look at me! Look at what you caused!” Harry was crying openly now, his naked body shaking in the water as he tried his best to glare through his tears. “I love you Tom! Love you! I loved you since I was twelve. I only followed you because of my feelings for you. I didn’t know that you would take me and… and… ruin me! You ruined me Tom with the Dark Magic! I just wanted to be with you, I just wanted to be close to you when I was twelve Tom. How was I supposed to know that you would ruin me? How was I supposed to know that you were going to corrupt me with the Dark Arts!? I didn’t want to kill them! I was angry at them, furious, but I didn’t want to kill them! Your piece of soul did that to me—“

“Quiet.” Tom commanded. Harry found himself silent, his body still quivering as he continued to cry. Tom stared at Harry for a moment, the raven-haired boy shrinking under his gaze as he tried to control his emotions.

The silence was unbearable for Harry. He felt broken, depressed and doubtful. He looked up at Tom and asked “Do you even love me Tom?”

Tom looked shocked and frowned. “Of course I do Harry. Don’t even question that.”

“Then why Tom?” Harry asked.

“Sit here,” Tom said patting the spot next to him. Harry hesitated before moving to sit next to Tom. “Don’t you ever doubt my feelings for you Harry. Ever. I’m angry with you but I will always love you. You acted without thinking, acted without coming to me for counsel, and now we are in a position where our plans can all be destroyed because you decided to commit murder. Were you seen by anyone? Did you leave anything there? Any small details that can be traced back to you? All of these questions and more need to be considered before you take a life. Now we have to figure out a way to make sure that not only do our plans continue smoothly but also have to make sure that the Ministry of Magic do not even consider you as a suspect. Understand?”

Harry just nodded feeling like a scolded child.

“Good. Now who knows about your murder?”

“Ron… he helped me when I was throwing up afterwards,” Harry admitted.

“He might tell Draco if the boy doesn’t already know you’re the murderer. So when will you tell him?” Tom asked.

“I… I uh wasn’t planning to—“

Harry found himself laying over Tom’s lap in an instant and his butt was stinging. “Weren’t planning to tell him?” Tom repeated. “Harry Potter that is the worst option you have.”

“Oww…” Harry whined wincing at the pain. He looked up at Tom and said, “You spanked me!”

“I did,” Tom nodded. “And I daresay you need more if you continue to act like a child.”

“I am a child!” Harry yelled.

“You are my heir!” Tom said. “You are my prince and you are acting like the child that you are not.” He spanked Harry again causing the boy to wince again. “This is unacceptable Harry, you have to know that.”

“Spanking your boyfriend is unacceptable,” Harry grumbled. He looked at Tom and said, “I know I messed up but it wasn’t my fault! It was yours! Your piece of soul was acting in me. I couldn’t control my actions!”

“But still the act is done and Lucius and Narcissa are dead,” Tom said. “Whose fault it is, is not important. What is important is that we need to make sure that our plans are not hindered in any regards. The first step being that you go and tell Draco the truth.”

Harry stared at the floor ahead of him. He felt Tom’s hands laying gently on his butt cheeks and started massaging. “Harry love,” Tom said gently, “I do all of this to keep us safe. Right now we are so close to achieving our goal, we are only a few months away I can feel it. We need to be careful love… we can’t have the husk returning while I am trapped in the diary. I may be complete with your soul but I am only borrowing it love, I want your soul to remain intact, to be whole. Now though… I cannot guarantee that. You casted the darkest of all Dark Arts, you killed a man and poisoned his wife. Their son needs to know. It is only right. Do you understand Harry?”

Harry just stared at the floor but nodded. “Yeah… I do…” he said defeated.

“Come on… don’t be that,” Tom sighed. Harry felt himself being picked up and hugged to Tom’s chest. The semi-corporal boy slid into the bath and petted Harry’s hair gently. “So why are you here anyway? What are you trying to accomplish besides a nice bath?” Tom asked.

“The egg… Cedric said that this is a good place to figure it out,” Harry said.

“Where is it?” Tom asked.

Harry looked around and frowned. “It must have dropped into the bath.” He looked around at the water and saw a small golden shimmering light coming from the bottom of the bath. Taking a deep breath Harry plunged his head under the water to retrieved the egg that somehow opened. It was not a wailing noise he heard as he went underwater but a song. A chorus of eerie voices singing to him from the open egg on the bottom of the bath:

_“Come seek us where our voices sound_

_We cannot sing above the ground_

_And while you’re searching ponder this:_

_We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour—the prospect’s black,_

_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”_

Harry grabbed the egg and kicked himself to the surface. “A song!” he gasped. “Tom… the wailing is a song.”

The egg still under the water Tom slipped underneath without a word. When he came back up he frowned. “Odd, ‘Come seek us where our voices sound…’ Harry what do you suppose this means?” he asked Harry.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I’ve got to go and look for people who can’t use their voices above the ground… but I can hear them perfectly under the water…”

“Correct,” Tom nodded. “We have an agreement then that the voices can only be heard underwater. Now then, our second question: What does this mean?”

“This means that… this task involves creatures who live underwater,” Harry suggested. Tom nodded. “The lake then,” Harry continued. “But… what lives in the Black Lake apart from the giant squid?”

“Many creatures,” Tom said, “I’ve seen them numerous times in the Slytherin common room. However only one can speak with a human voice.”

“Speak with a human voice… Tom, there can’t possibly be merpeople in there, are there?” Harry asked.

Tom smirked and said, “Precisely Harry. So there are merpeople in the lake. And their song says ‘We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss’ which means…”

“That I have an hour to look for whatever item they took under the lake!” Harry said grinning to himself excitedly. But suddenly he realized what he was saying, and he felt the excitement drain out of him as though someone had just pulled a plug in his stomach. He wasn’t a very good swimmer; he’d never had much practice. Dudley had had lessons in his youth, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, no doubt hoping that Harry would drown one day, hadn’t bothered to give him any. A couple of lengths of this bath were all very well, but the lake was very large, and very deep… and merpeople would surely live right at the bottom. …

“Tom…” he said slowly, “how am I supposed to _breathe_?”

“I do not know,” Tom said. “The last time I drew breath was at the Yule Ball. But that is a problem for another day. Now you need to figure out how you are going to apologize to Draco for killing his parents.”

“Okay…” Harry said. He instead wanted to figure out why exactly Tom’s soul inside him took over his body. Tom sighed and opened his arms. Harry went to him and rested against his chest. “Relax my love…” Tom whispered in Harry’s ear. “Don’t worry everything will work out in the end. I will make sure of that. Come on… let’s finish our bath, okay? I may not have a permanent physical form but I think I can focus my body for tonight. You need it.”

“Thank you Tom… I’m sorry,” Harry frowned. “I just… I felt so distant from my body; I could only watch myself as I… did that.”

“I know love… but that is a problem for another day,” Tom whispered. “Tomorrow morning you are going to apologize to Draco Malfoy. I do not care how long it takes you are entering a phrase where you can get all the friends you can gather. Understand?”

“Yeah but I have friends,” Harry tried to argue.

“None of them are as reliable and resourceful as Draco,” Tom said. “Ronald is good for emotional support, your Gryffindor friends are amusing for a while but hold little use, the Granger girl… I will keep silent on her; my point Harry is that you need Draco. More precisely the Malfoy family. I will not allow your foolishness cost us our most powerful ally. So tomorrow: you will apologize to Draco Malfoy.”

“I get it, I know,” Harry lashed out. “I screwed up by letting _your_ piece of soul take control of me, killed the two Malfoys and now I have to somehow apologize to my best friend. Thank you Tom, I’ve got the message.”

Tom frowned and shook his head. “I am not trying to patronize you Harry, I am just trying my best to look out for you while I am in this inefficient form. I do not know why my Horcrux inside you acted the way it did, but there is too much for the both of us to handle right now to even look at it. Listen to me Harry, we have to survive the Triwizard Tournament, we have to get my body back and we must make sure that we don’t lose Draco’s friendship. Worrying about my Horcrux will only add more trouble.”

Harry stayed quiet. In the back of his mind he knew that Tom was right but still he hated how dependent he felt towards Tom. Looking up at Tom Harry sighed and said “Can we forget about that for now? I need to get back to Gryffindor Tower.”

Tom nodded and watched as Harry climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around him. Harry turned to see Tom floating again and the two silently returned to Gryffindor Tower. Harry tried to sleep but his mind was too active. He had too much to think about: how to apologize to Draco, how he is even going to breathe underwater for an hour and, most importantly, what exactly the merpeople will steal. His Firebolt? The Diary? His photo book of his parents? Harry laid in his bed tossing and turning most of the night as every thought ran through his head. The next morning only added to his troubles as it appeared that Ron and Hermione weren’t on speaking terms.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter XII**

Ron and Hermione were sitting at their normal seats in the Great Hall but Harry could feel the tension from them the moment he walked in. They were eating like normal but Harry could practically feel the icy wall that stood between the two as they made it a point to avoid eye contact. He sat down between them, hoping to somehow thaw the wall with his presence but he was unnoticed as Ron and Hermione continued to avoid each other.

Harry looked around the Gryffindor Table trying to gain some insight about what is going on between Hermione and Ron. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and observed.

The entire table was full of Gryffindor students from first years to seventh years. Each year sat close together with first years closest to the door and seventh years near the staff table. The fourth years were more near the middle. The fourth years mostly seemed oblivious to Ron’s and Hermione’s icy demeanor to each other. Dean and Seamus were sitting close to each other, knees and shoulders touching their attention spent mostly on each other but Harry noticed a flick in Dean’s eyes that moved towards surprisingly Ginny then Hermione. Harry followed Dean’s eyes to Ginny who was just staring at her breakfast. Harry continued his observations as he moved to Neville who looked as oblivious as ever; Parvati Patil looked as if she was uninvolved in whatever is happening entirely but was giggling to gossip Lavender Brown shared with her both girls glancing at Seamus then Hermione. He then moved down the table to the older years none of them seemed involved by whatever is going on here, not even Fred and George who were busy talking with their friend Lee Jordan. So Harry instead focused on looking at Ginny, Dean, Seamus, Hermione, and Ron for whatever is happening is happening because of these five people. He guessed that an incident happened last night while he was in the Prefect’s Bath.

Dean and Seamus were giving looks at both Hermione and Ginny while Ginny tried her best at ignoring their daggers and instead throw some of her own. Harry looked at Ron who was just staring at his food not touching a bite. If Ginny was the victim then Ron would be trying to yell or have a row with Dean and Seamus, Harry theorized, so the ones who are at fault are most likely Ginny and/or Hermione. Harry looked at Ron, Dean and Seamus and tried to think of possible reasons why Ginny and Hermione might be getting glared at. Luckily for Harry, Hermione took that moment to mutter under her breath “It’s all Malfoy’s fault I swear.”

Harry looked at the Slytherin Table where Draco sat. Guilt stabbed him through the chest but he shrugged it off to instead watch the blond for a moment. He still looked sadden and in mourning but Harry couldn’t see any reason or indication that he was directly involved with what is happening around him. He ignored the guilt for now as well as Tom’s insistence on apologizing to Draco immediately and instead focused on the Gryffindor Table. What could all four boys, Draco, Ron, Seamus, and Dean, have in common that would cause both Hermione and Ginny to glare at them? The first answer Harry came up with was that they’re all gay. Harry decided to go through that answer and decide what could have happened. From the glares Ginny were shooting Dean and Seamus Harry could guess that the couple did something last night. He looked at Ron and asked “What did Seamus and Dean do last night?”

“Oh them,” Hermione huffed.

Ron shot her a glare and turned to Harry. “Ginny saw them kissing in the common room and sort of… freaked out,” he said.

“Freaked out?” Harry repeated.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “She was screaming. I thought she went mental. Then somehow my and Draco’s name got dragged in, Hermione got involved, it’s a big mess.” Ron frowned.

“Hermione,” Harry said turning to her. “What happened?”

Hermione turned to Harry and said, “Ron and I were arguing because of Malfoy—“

“You made fun of my boyfriend!” Ron interjected.

“He’s a bloody prat how can you even think of being his boyfriend?” Hermione snarled. “Don’t you two even remember what happened in our first three years? He almost got Hagrid fired last year and Buckbeak executed! He also called me ‘mudblood numerous times and in our first year we almost got expelled because of him! So sorry for not feeling any sympathy for him.”

“Sympathy? You were barking like a mad cow,” Ron said. He turned to Harry and said, “Draco and I were just outside talking, this was after you left for the Prefect’s bath, and Hermione saw us and sort of went off. We argued, Draco left in a mood and when we were inside the common room our argument sort of mixed with my sister’s and them two.” Ron pointed at Dean and Seamus.

Harry sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know how he was going to fix whatever rift was between Hermione and Ron. So instead he asked “Since when was Ginny like this? She knows about Charlie right? And you?”

“I don’t know,” Ron shrugged. “Seems like something decided to crawl up her and stay there.”

Harry frowned and looked at Ginny. “Odd,” he said. Ron just huffed before returning to just staring at his breakfast. Hermione did the same and Harry felt the icy tension between them again.

Tom decided to step in and spoke to Harry, “Don’t worry about this problem Harry. We need to focus on our own.”

Harry mentally nodded and looked at the Slytherin Table. He needed to talk with Draco, and he knew that it would take a long time, but their classes won’t allow it until late at day. So Harry had to wait, and wait he did. His classes went through with the icy tension that lasted between Hermione and Ron as they refused to talk to each other. Harry just felt uncomfortable sitting between the two of them, he could barely pay attention to his classes. Harry felt like time was moving slow as the icy tension between Ron and Hermione grew. During the tension Harry kept himself busy by trying to figure out what he will say to Draco when they finally talk.

Despite the time he had Harry couldn’t think of anything. And as soon as classes ended he found himself with Draco alone in a corridor away from the Great Hall where the rest of the school is having dinner.

“What is it Harry? You okay?” Draco asked.

“I should be asking you that…” Harry said. “How are you feeling? …you know…with…”

“Oh…” Draco frowned. “I’m… I think I’m getting a bit better, I don’t know. It’s strange sometimes I wake up and have to remind myself that they’re gone. But… I think I might know who did it.” Draco looked up at Harry with a strange smile.

“You—you have?” Harry stuttered.

“Yes,” Draco said with that strange smile. “I’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it! Honestly I don’t think I’ve actually slept in weeks.” It showed as Harry noticed that Draco had bags under his eyes. “I’ve kept going through name after name of everyone who knew my mother and father and figuring out motives of why they might want to kill them and I think I’ve finally got it!”

“O… oh…” Harry said staring at his friend. He felt his chest being ripped apart by guilt knowing that it was his fault for sending Draco down this spiral of madness.

“Yes,” Draco said. “I think I finally know who done it… Yaxley. Corban Yaxley. He killed my parents, I’m sure of it.”

Harry frowned and tried to find his voice but couldn’t.

“Yaxley killed my parents, I know it,” Draco said. “He wanted the Dark Lord’s favor, he wanted to show his loyalty to the Dark Lord by killing off my parents, separating those who are truly loyal and those who aren’t. Remember at the World Cup? When the Death Eaters marched and tortured that muggle family? My parents weren’t a part of that. We did not even know it was happening. Yaxley must have saw that as my family betraying the order and—“

“It wasn’t Yaxley,” Harry said not knowing who this Yaxley person even was. Draco stared at him. “It is, it has to be,” he said desperately. “Harry I’ve gone through it numerous times and I know that it is Yaxley. It makes sense who else would want to kill my parents?”

“Me!” Harry shouted out his eyes squinted close. “It was me! I killed your parents!”

Silence.

Harry found that he couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see Draco’s face, see Draco’s fury. What was he going to do? Would he curse Harry? Yell at him? Whatever he did Harry knew that it would split both their hearts in two, it would cause a blockade between himself and Draco… between Draco and Ron when he learns that Ron knew before he did. Harry couldn’t even begin to think of the mournful heartache that would caused with both his friends, knowing that he is the one responsible for breaking their fleeting—

Pain. Harry felt pain in his stomach as a fist made contact with it. Harry doubled over, his arms immediately going to his stomach as he felt pain again as Draco punched his face. Harry fell to the floor but stayed quiet as Draco kicked him repeatedly. Harry struggled to open his eyes only to see Draco glaring at him through tear-filled eyes. Draco continued to kick him repeatedly. “Why! Why? Why? Why? Why?” He cried out.

“I couldn’t help it!” Harry screamed out. Draco stopped, shocked and Harry took the time to stand up quickly. “Seeing you crying just snapped something in me. I couldn’t control myself it was as if something was controlling me as I stared at the bench you and Ron were sitting. I found my body moving on its own. I got my broom, flew to your manor… poisoned your mother and killed your father. I tried to stop, I really did but I felt so numb! When I finally got control of my body all I could do is throw up. Draco… Draco I know it’ll mean nothing but I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Draco glared at him. His body shook uncontrollably and Harry braced himself for another punch. “Damn you,” Draco whispered. “Damn you Potter… why… Was one orphan not enough for this school? You wanted to drag me down?” He snarled out through gritted teeth.

“Draco—“

“Shut it Potter!” Draco yelled. “You stupid damn idiot! You just couldn’t be alone could you? You wanted me to suffer the same fate that you suffered is that it? Huh?”

“No it’s not—“

“Then why did you kill my parents Harry?”

“I told you I couldn’t control my body—“

“Bullshit Harry!” Draco cursed. “Don’t you dare try and tell me that Harry! Why did you kill my parents? Do you actually hate me that much? Do you hate me so much that you wanted to see me suffer? After everything I did for you—for Ron! After everything this is how you repay me?”

“I didn’t want to kill them!” Harry yelled. “Yes the thought crossed my mind but only for a second! Then the fucking Horcrux in my mind decided to act on it’s own!”

“Horcrux? There is no way you can be a damn Horcrux Harry!” Draco yelled. “Stop making excuses!”

“I am not making excuses!” Harry yelled.

“Then fuck off!” Draco yelled. “Leave! I don’t ever want to see you again! You rotten, horrible, miserable person! I hope you die!”

Harry could practically hear both their hearts breaking as Draco’s scream echoed throughout the corridors. Harry felt his body growing weak strength leaving his legs as he was forced to fall to the floor. Something inside of him was hurting, it was as if something was being forcefully torn apart. A dark mist appeared around Harry that scared him. Draco turned at Harry’s scream and just stared at the dark mist surrounding Harry.

“Potter! What do you think you’re playing at?” Draco yelled.

“I—I don’t know,” Harry groaned in pain. Another torn and the mist began to form a humanoid shape. Both Harry and Draco stared confused as the mist seemed to consolidate into a human being. Harry roared in pain as the human-mist began to show his features; handsome brown eyes, a handsome face and short black hair.

“T-Tom?” Harry groaned from the floor.

Tom turned to Harry and shook his head. “Did you already forget Harry? I possess half of your soul. Normally I would wait until I have enough power to appear without borrowing much from the half of your soul but this time I decided to simply take it.”

“Why does it hurt then?” Harry groaned. He couldn’t find the strength needed to push himself off of the floor.

“Because Harry I am taking your _soul_ out of your body,” Tom said. “It is supposed to be a harmful experience. Why else did I make that Weasley girl unconscious? I didn’t want to deal with her screaming.”

“My… my Lord… why are you here?” Draco stuttered finding his voice easily.

Tom turned to Draco. “Simple, you are both being unreasonable in my opinion,” he said ignoring Harry’s painful groans. “You were wrong in both counts of who murdered your parents. It was not Yaxley nor Harry. It was me. Or, more precisely, my Horcrux which is in my boy.”

“Y—you?”

“Yes Draco, me,” Tom said. “As for the reasoning? Well it is quite simple: they were being counterproductive. Their personal feelings about homosexuals caused Harry, yourself, and Ronald to become distracted. And that distraction is unacceptable at this time. For not only is Harry forced to compete for his life in the Triwizard Tournament, but he knows that he is competing in a trap that will inevitably lead him to the husk who will try and use him to revive himself. During which he and myself must overpower him and whoever is stupid enough to help the weakling. The pain and frustration your parents’ letter caused all three of you would only cause complications both immediately as well as in the future. So I’ve allowed my Horcrux to take control of Harry’s mind and body it was a simple matter really, don’t you remember staring at that bench for a long time Harry?

“I made the poison through Harry’s body. A simple one that I’ve taught Harry last year undetectable and useful for many occasions. I then took Harry’s broom and flew to Malfoy Manor where I waited patiently for your mother and father to arrived. I watched as your mother unknowingly drank her poison before revealing myself to your father and killing him. Why you might ask? Again they were being counterproductive. They would rather have their personal feelings interrupt my plans, an act that will not be tolerated. This was more of a simple killing, it was a message of what will come. Your parents were simply unfortunate to be confused zealots who would rather believe in their unneeded old hatred rather than respect and loyalty to both their Lord and their son. So Draco, if you want to be angry a someone be angry at me. Not Harry for the boy was just a conduit of my actions.”

Tom stopped and just looked at Draco who seemed frozen on the stop. Draco couldn’t talk, couldn’t reply. All he could do was stared at Tom as he tried to comprehend what he said. Slowly he began to shake his head and took a step back. “I can’t… not now,” he breathed.

Tom stayed emotionless as Draco ran away. He turned to Harry who was still on the floor and said, “He will be back.”

“You made things worst!” Harry struggled.

Tom sighed and shook his head. “You will see Harry. But for now you have upheld on your part and apologized. Now we can focus on the Second Task.”

Harry just frowned in response. Tom sighed and knelt before Harry. “Focus love! Don’t lose sight of our goals just because of Draco.”

“Is it true?” Harry murmured using all of his strength to look at Tom. “What you told Draco… is that true?”

Tom looked down at Harry and shook his head. “What? The story I told Draco? It might, it might not. I do not have full control on the Horcrux in your mind yet Harry. However, my intentions are true. I will not allow old hatred run in my new order. I was blind to it before, years of solitude does that to a person, my love, but now that I see the Malfoy’s reaction to their own son… it sickens me to my core. I have been thinking recently about what I have done right and wrong in the past, how I will change my tactics after the year is done and I have my body, but that is a conversation for another time. For now tell me this: What did you learn?”

“I didn’t learn anything,” Harry groaned. It felt like his body was drowning, everything was trying to fall inward to the center of the unbearable pain.

Tom sighed and knelt next to Harry’s body. He dragged a long finger down Harry’s body before stopping on his ass which he gave a swift spank. Harry cried out in pain and said “Why did you do that? I learned nothing!”

“Focus Harry!” Tom said. “You did indeed learn a lesson! You’re learning it right now. What do you feel?” He gave Harry another slap on his butt.

“Ouch! Pain!” Harry snarled. “Not just from you but from inside. It’s like a massive hole inside me is trying to suck all of my energy in to fill it.”

“That is correct,” Tom smirked. “What you are feeling is what my husk is feeling right now: an incomplete soul. A human cannot truly live with an incomplete soul, a lesson that I and my husk learned personally. The pain you feel is the pain of your body trying to fill in the void that is now inside you.”

“But… why…” Harry grunted.

“Why did I continue to create my Horcruxes?” Tom asked. “Simple love, the more I broke up my soul the less it hurt. I’ve become numb to the pain that you are currently feeling.” Harry screamed in furious pain as Tom took a breath. “The pain you’re feeling…” Tom smiled. “It’s only a fraction of what you would feel if you make a Horcrux. The soul mustn’t be torn apart Harry. Remember that.”

“Can’t move,” Harry grunted as the pain only increased. It was as if the longer Tom was using his soul the more pain he felt.

“I know you can’t love,” Tom said. “But don’t worry I’ll fix your soul in a bit. There is one thing I want to make sure you understand: Do not worry about Draco Malfoy. So far we have done all we could. While it’ll break your heart, let him have some space. He needs to think and come up with his own conclusions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Harry gritted.

“Good. Don’t worry I’m only returning your soul,” Tom whispered as the mist appeared. His body started to lose its solidarity as he brought his lips to Harry’s head. The black mist seeped into Harry and he felt the pain disappearing. It slowly became easier to breathe and strength was returning to his legs. Swaying heavily Harry stood up and groaned as his vision focused. His head was pounding but for some reason he felt… lighter like a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Once he was feeling normal Harry returned to the Great Hall, his mind shifting to the second task. Just as it had before he faced the Horntail, time was slipping away as though somebody had bewitched the clocks to go extra-fast. There was a week to go before February the twenty-fourth (there was still time)… five days to go (he was bound to find something soon) …three days to go ( _please let me find something… please_ ) …

With two days left, Harry started to go off food again. Ron and Hermione were still icy towards each other, and Draco and he did not talk since their argument. Neville approached Harry at the end of the final day and said, “H-Hi Harry.”

“Hi Neville,” Harry said not even looking up from the charm book he was staring at. “Unless you have an answer on how I can charm myself to breathe underwater I don’t have time to chat right now.”

“Well… I don’t know about any charms or stuff but you can always try gillyweed,” Neville said.

“Gillyweed?” Harry asked looking up at Neville.

“Yeah…” Neville said. “I read about it in a book Professor Moody gave me. It’s a plant from the Mediterranean Sea that’ll let people breathe underwater. There’s a debate between Herbologists about its duration in salt water versus fresh water. You see in salt water—“

“Neville stop,” Harry said. “Can this plant help me breathe underwater?”

“Yeah sure it can,” Neville said. “Although there’s debate on how long it lasts—“

“Can you get me some tomorrow before the task?” Harry interrupted again.

“Some gillyweed? Yeah I know where to get some! Professor Moody told me that Snape has some in his office, I’m sure I can get it from him!” Neville said happily.

“Brilliant,” Harry said looking hopeful for the first time. “The task starts at nine thirty. Can you get it to me?”

“Yeah sure I’ll be by the Black Lake with it,” Neville said.

“Excellent Neville,” Harry grinned. “You really saved me here.”

“Anytime Harry,” Neville said before running out of the library. Harry looked down at the charms book he was staring at and decided to follow Neville. He was too exhausted to read a single word and now he could rest easy knowing that Neville will get him this gillyweed plant. He returned the book to the shelf he found it on and made his way to Gryffindor Tower where he fell onto his bed with just enough energy to take off his clothes underneath the covers.

Harry woke up anxious the next morning. As he dressed he found himself pocketing the penknife Sirius gave him as well as his wand. He couldn’t force himself to eat even a bite of toast as he sat down at Gryffindor Table between Hermione and Ron. Something seemed odd though. He looked around the Great Hall and frowned. He didn’t have time to think about it as Dumbledore stood and called for the champions to make their way to the Black Lake. Harry stood along with Cedric, Fleur, and Krum and began to make his way out of the Great Hall. He could feel eyes on him as he walked along the length of the Great Hall. The stares only played with his nerves and he was relieved to be out of the castle.

“Harry!” Neville’s voice called out from the entrance hall. He ran up to Harry and handed him a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. “Here! Eat it right before you go into the lake.”

“Thanks Neville,” Harry said again. “See ya later!” He turned and ran to join the rest of the champions as they silently walked to the Black Lake. Harry saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons’ enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that reflected in the lake below. The judges’ table was gold-draped and at the water’s edge. When they reached the edge Krum shook off his clothes revealing his wide muscled body covered only by swim trunks. Harry just pulled off his socks and shoes and waited nervously for the task to begin. The stands began to fill and before Harry knew it excitement filled the air as the judges took their seats. Ludo Bagman moved among the champions, spacing them along the bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was at the very end of the line, next to Krum.

“All right, Harry?” Bagman whispered as he moved Harry a few feet farther away from Krum. “Know what you’re going to do?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Bagman gave Harry’s shoulders a quick squeeze and returned to the judges’ table; he pointed his wand at his throat as he done at the World Cup, said, “ _Sonorus!_ ” and his voice boomed out across the dark water towards the stands.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One…two… _three!_ ”

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, stil lair; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing Harry stuffed the gillyweed into his mouth and waded out into the lake.

It was so cold he felt his skin on his legs searing as though this was fire, not icy water. His sodden roes weighted him down as he walked in deeper, now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped and swallowed.

He felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck—

Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air. …He had gills!

Without pausing to think Harry dived into the water. The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head has stopped spinning; he took another gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in  front of him and stared at them. They were webbed and green; the same happened with his feet which became elongated. The water started to feel very pleasant to Harry and he began to swim. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape. He worried for a moment about Tom’s Diary before remembering he hid it in the dormitory last night. It felt odd not feeling Tom’s presence around him, he felt incomplete without Tom’s voice whispering in his ear and his phantom following around. In fact the more Harry thought about it this must be the first time in two years that he was truly alone. He felt naked. He forced himself to push the oddness off of him.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom …and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.

Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry’s leg, its pointed fangs bared—Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry’s robes, and were attempted to drag him down.

“Relashio!” Harry shouted, except no wound came out. …A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindlylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindlow’s grip and swam, as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of water over his shoulder at random; every now and then he felt one of the grindlows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back into the weed.

Harry swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mersong.

_“An hour long you’ll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took…”_

Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the merson.

_“…your time’s half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot. …”_

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, harry saw faces …faces that bore no resemblance at all to the painting of the mermaid in the prefects’ bathroom. …

The merpeople had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one of two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands. Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like the village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions towards them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Draco was tied between the small Durmstrang boy and Cho Chang. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour’s sister. All four of them appeared to be in a very deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry sped toward the hostages, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong. Harry scrambled through his robes to get the knife Sirius gave him and began to work at the rope binding Draco, and after several minutes’ hard work, they broke apart. Draco floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn’t they hurry up? Harry turned back to the hostages, raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at the bindings—

At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from the hostages, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

“You take your own hostage,” one of them said to him. “Leave the others. …”

“No way!” Harry said furiously—but only two large bubbles came out.

“Your task is to retrieve your own friend. Leave the others!”

“They’re my friends too!” Harry yelled gesturing towards Cho Chang and the other hostages. “And I don’t want them to die!”

Where were the other champions? Would he have time to take Draco to the surface and come back down for Cho and the others? Would he e able to find them again? He looked down at his watch to see how much time was left—it had stopped working.

 _Tom this is one time I actually wished you were here to tell me what to do,_ Harry thought to himself. But then the merpeople around him pointed excitedly over his head. Harry looked up and saw Cedric swimming toward them. There was an enormous bubble around his head, which made his features look oddly wide and stretched.

“Got lost!” he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. “Fleur and Krum’re coming now!”

Feeling enormously relieved, Harry watched Cedric pull a knife out of his pocket and cut Cho free. He pulled her upward and out of sight.

Harry looked around, waiting. Where were Fleur and Krum? Time was getting short, and according to the song, the hostages would be lost after an hour. …The merpeople started screeching animatedly. Those holding Harry loosened their grip, staring behind them. Harry turned and saw something monstrous cutting through the water toward them: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark. …It was Krum. He appeared to have transfigured himself—but badly.

The shark-man swam straight to the Bulgarian boy and in one fell swoop pulled the boy from the restraints, breaking them before swimming away.

Now what? Harry thought desperately. If he could be sure that Fleur was coming. …But still no sign. There was nothing to be done except …

He harden his grip on his knife but the mermen now closed in around Draco and the little girl, shaking their heads at him. Harry pulled out his wand.

Without even threatening them he began blasting spells, streams of boiling water hitting the statue and scaring the merpeople away. Harry darted forward and began to hack at the ropes binding the small girl to the statue, and at least she was free. He seized the little girl around the waist, grabbed the neck of Draco’s robes, and kicked off from the bottom.

It was very slow work. He could no longer use his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Draco and Fleur’s sister were like potato-filled sacks dragging him back down. …He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark…

Harry’s legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging Draco and the girl. He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again …he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth …yet the darkness was definitely thinning now…he could see daylight above him. …

He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet… water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs… he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him… he had to get there …he had to…

Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn’t breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop—

And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and panting, pulled Draco and the little girl with him. All around him, wild, green-haired heads were emerging out of the water with him, but they were smiling at him.

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought that Draco and the little girl might be head, but they were wrong. …both of them had opened their eyes; the girl looked scared and confused, but Draco merely glared at Harry. “What is this about then?” he demanded. “Why you bring her for Potter? First you insulted me then you got me wet!”

“Fleur didn’t turn up, I couldn’t leave her!” Harry panted.

“Harry, you idiot,” Draco said, “You didn’t actually take that stupid song seriously now did you? You honestly thought Dumbledore would let us drown in front of everyone? You just had to play the hero.”

“I’m sorry for caring about my best friend,” Harry muttered. Draco just gave him a look before shaking his head leaving Harry to help Fleur’s sister get to the shore by himself.

Harry could see madam Pomfrey fussing over Krum, the Bulgarian boy, Cedric, and Cho, all of whom were wrapped in thick blankets. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman stood beaming at Harry and Draco from the bank as they swam nearer. Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur Delacor, who was quite hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

“Gabrielle! _Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she ‘urt?_ ”

Harry tried to yell at Fleur that her sister was alright but he was too exhausted. Dumbledore and Bagman seized Draco and Harry and pulled them upright; Fleur had broken free of Madame Maxime and was hugging her sister.

“It was ze grindylows. …zey attacked me … oh Gabrielle, I thought… I thought…”

“Come here, you,” Madame Pomfrey said. She seized Harry and pulled him over to the others, wrapped him so tightly in a blanket that he felt as though he were in a straitjacket, and forced a measure of very hot potion down his throat. Steam gushed out of his ears.

“Should’ve been Ron down there not me,” Draco muttered in his towel. “You just had to pick me, didn’t you Potter?”

“I didn’t pick—“

“Yes you did, of course you did,” Draco said. “You and Ron were friends for four years but no I had to be the person you missed most! If you think that this will make me instantly forgive you—“

“You’re the only one who knows everything,” Harry said. “You know everything about me, Ron doesn’t. Everything about Tom… about me… you’re the only one I trust Draco.”

Draco just stared at Harry for a while before looking away. Harry started to stare and watched as Dumbledore was crouching at the water’s edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turned to his fellow judges, and said, “A conference before we give the marks, I think.”

The judges went into a huddle. Madame Pomfrey went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur had many cuts on her face and arms and her robes were torn, but she didn’t seem to care, nor would she allow madam Pomfrey to clean them.

“Look after Gabrielle,” she told her, and then she turned to Harry. “You saved ‘er,” she said breathlessly. “Even though she was not your ‘ostage.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, who was now heartily wishing he’d left the two girls and boy to the statue. Fleur bent down, kissed Harry twice on each cheek.

Ludo Bagman’s magically magnified voice boomed out beside them, making them all jump, and causing the crowd in the stands to go very quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…

“Fleur Delacour, though the demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.”

Applause from the stands.

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

Harry’s heart sank. If Cedric had been outside the time limit, he most certainly had been.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior. Harry leaned towards Draco to whisper something but Draco was no longer next to him.

“Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect,” Bagman continued. “He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges,” and here bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However… Mr. Potter’s score is forty-five points.”

Harry’s stomach leapt—he was now tying for first place with Cedric. He had to tell Tom the great news!

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” Bagman continued. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

Harry turned to Draco only find that he was indeed gone, Harry couldn’t even see the boy’s hair in the distance. Feeling dishearten Harry forced himself to join the celebrating crowds, only wanting his best friend back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

Ron ran after Draco. His love still looked to be shivering from the Black Lake. Draco only made it to a tall tree sitting on the coast of the Black Lake until Ron caught up with the taller boy. “Draco! Stop!” he called out.

Draco stopped and turned to Ron. He waited and felt the shorter redhead’s arms surrounding him in a hug. “Draco, I was so worried about you,” he whispered. “What’s the matter?”

Draco looked frustrated beyond measure. He glared across the Black Lake and snarled “Potter! Potter! Potter! Potter!”

Ron frowned and looked up at his boyfriend. Even though they were nearly the same height, Ron liked it that he was the shorter of the two; it makes Draco holding him easier. “Harry? What did Harry do?”

“Everything,” Draco said. “Harry—Potter…” Draco made a frustrated noise and looked at the large tree next to them. “Sit down,” he sighed. “This will take a while.”

“Okay fox,” Ron whispered, using his pet name for Draco.

“Shut it Weasley.”

They moved to the tree and sat against it. Draco leaning against the tree with Ron in his arms. They were both silent for a moment staring out onto the lake. The stands were quickly being emptied; crowds of students walking together back to the castle. Ron tried to see Harry but couldn’t as a large crowd of Gryffindors came close to them. The couple was left alone, however, as the crowd moved away from the tree and towards the castle.

“What is it…” Ron began hesitantly. “What did Harry do?”

Draco sighed and looked over the lake. “We haven’t been entirely truthful with you,” Draco began. “Harry and I… we’re in the Dark Arts, that’s true, but… the person who began it… is Harry’s boyfriend. Tom.”

“Tom?” Ron said. “How does he tie into this? And how come I’ve never heard or seen the guy before?”

“Just listen to me,” Draco said. “Tom and Harry… they met in our second year. Tom’s very knowledgeable in the Dark Arts. He was the one who seduced Harry to them, the one who first shown Harry what the Dark Arts can truly do. Since the end of our second year Tom has been teaching Harry the Dark Arts. In fact, it was Tom who lead to my and Harry’s friendship. Tom opened both Harry’s and my eyes about many spells and magical objects that we never knew existed. One thing, a Horcrux, is an object that we…I never thought possible. According to Tom a Horcrux is an object that holds a piece of soul and Harry… he holds a piece of You-Know-Who’s soul. This is important to know because… because…” Draco took a deep breath and tightened his grip on Ron. “Because Harry is the one… he killed my parents during the break.”

Ron gave a small gasp, fearing that Draco knew that he knew before he did.

Draco just nodded. “I know, it’s very shocking… and worst of all he told me a week ago. A week ago! Weeks after he killed my parents and he’s only now telling me!”

“Why would… why would he do this?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know, he claims that he was doing it for me, making me a bloody orphan all because of that fucking letter!” Draco started crying. Ron frowned but stayed quiet. “He said… he and Tom said… that the Horcrux inside Harry was acting… it took control of Harry and it was the one who committed the acts! As if that’s possible! But even if it was… he still killed them Ron, I’m still an orphan because of Harry… I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either…” Ron frowned.

“And then he has the gall of calling me his best friend after that! I had to be the one stuck in that damn lake! Me! When it should have been you—“

“What about Tom?” Ron asked. “Why wasn’t Tom in the lake?”

Draco stopped and looked down at Ron. He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before saying, “I don’t know Ron… maybe they have a spat or maybe Tom is deathly afraid of water. I heard he’s very reclusive.”

“Same here but I never even met the guy,” Ron pouted. “But the Harry thing… Draco, I’m sure he is very regretful… in fact he is.” Ron sighed and looked up at his love. “Please don’t hate me, I promised Harry not to tell you… but I found him throwing up in the boy’s toilet late one night. I didn’t know what he just did, and he wouldn’t tell me, but he kept on vomiting and crying… you could tell that he just did something he really didn’t want to do. Fox, I know that you’re hurt, very hurt, and nothing that Harry will ever do will be enough but… I think what he did… killing your parents or forced to watch himself kill your parents through that Whore-crust thingy… what he did killed something inside of him. He spent weeks worrying over it but he wouldn’t tell me. I thought that he and that Tom bloke broke up violently. That or he accidently got pregnant or something,”—Draco gave a soft chuckle at the thought and sight of Harry pregnant, his stomach ballooned to exceptional proportions—“ whatever it is, Harry seriously regrets it. And I know that it’ll be a long time until you can actually forgive him for this awful thing he has done… but please don’t push him away. He’s my best mate… he’s the only person before you who knew all of my secrets… I don’t want to lose him. And I don’t want to lose you… and I think… you don’t want to lose each other…”

Silence fell upon them. Draco busied himself with petting Ron’s hair as they both stared out into the Black Lake. They were alone now, everyone from the stands and judge’s table made their way back into Hogwarts where they’re no doubted having a feast for lunch. Draco broke the silence with a sigh and said “Goddamn it Weasley… why do you have to be right? … I can’t hate him. I wish I can, it’ll be easier if I can just hate him and Tom but I cannot. My parents, while not the best people, were still my parents but… they were abusive, they were mean… they were… sometimes I doubt if they ever loved me. But death? I never wished that upon them! …” Silence fell again.

“I wish I was stronger,” Draco said after a couple of minutes. “Then I could have done something myself… take care of it myself. I hate how weak I feel, how I’m always turning to you or Harry for help… for support.”

“That’s what a good boyfriend does,” Ron interjected. “He helps his boyfriend.”

“Yeah but… as stupid as it sounds I just thought that I’d be the one helping,” Draco confessed. “That I’d be the one… on top. When we had sex for the first time… I thought that I would be the one… you know… but instead it was you. I thought that I would be the one taking care of you but so far it’s been the opposite! I just… I hate how I feel sometimes.”

Ron smiled and said “Draco, you’re always taking care of me. I mean, if it wasn’t for you this relationship would never happen, and you’re teaching me everything that I know… you’re taking care of me in more ways than you know Draco.”

“Then why do I feel so weak?” Draco frowned.

“Fox… come here,” Ron said gently. He sat up against Draco’s chest and turned around. He wrapped his arms around Draco and whispered “You’re not weak. In fact you’re far from it! You’re the best teacher I’ve ever had! I’ve learned loads more with you in ten minutes then I ever will with Snape.”

“That’s just because you can’t concentrate,” Draco grumbled.

“Draco I’m trying to be serious,” Ron said. “Do you really think a weak person can do what you do Fox?”

“No I guess not,” Draco mumbled. “It is pretty rare, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! And you can read those Aura things as well,” Ron smiled. “I mean who else could read people’s auras?”

“You’re right,” Draco smiled. “And do you want to know what your aura is right now? A lovely mixture of gold and emerald.”

Ron blushed as Draco pulled him closer. They soon kissed and Ron felt like he was melting as Draco’s arms tighten around Ron’s waist. Their kiss quickly became heated and Ron’s hands moved down Draco’s torso resting on the top of his pants.

“Let me show you how strong you are,” Ron smirked.

Draco nodded as Ron unbuttoned his pants and pulled it down slightly, revealing his large flaccid dick. Ron smirked at the sight and bent down on all four. Lowering his head he licked the flaccid cock from base to tip earning himself a low throaty moan from Draco. Ron continued to lick the flaccid cock and watch with amazement as it woke to life, blood rushing to the member as it got harder. One..two..three…Draco’s cock was six and a half inches, the same as Ron’s although Draco’s was much thicker, hard. “I wonder how big it’ll be when I’m finished growing, Draco said with a slight smirk. “Think your butt will handle it?”

“I think I will Fox,” Ron smirked before taking Draco in his mouth. Draco moaned as Ron’s head went further and further down his hard cock as inch by inch disappeared in the tight warm cavern of Ron’s mouth. Soon Ron’s nose hit Draco’s pelvis where pubic hair started to grow in a nice neat patch. Ron stopped and inhaled Draco’s musky teen scent as his cock jabbed at the back of Ron’s throat. Draco placed his hands on the back of Ron’s head and pushed down, keeping the redhead gagging on his cock.

“Thinking of calling me Fox while doing this Weasley?” Draco smirked with a surprising arrogance. “Looks like I need to teach you some manners.”

Ron made a muffled noise as Draco grabbed his hair roughly and pulled him up. Ron coughed, his face flushed red and he looked up at Draco. “Do it again,” he gasped.

Draco smirked and pushed Ron’s head down on his cock again, the redhead swallowing quickly and happily as the cock again jabbed the back of his throat. Both boys moaned as Draco again pushed against Ron’s head keeping him against his crotch and pubes as his hot, thick cock kept most of Ron’s mouth. Saliva oozed from the sides of Ron’s mouth, his jaw began to hurt and his heart pace quickened as he breathed quickly through his nose inhaling more and more of Draco’s scent. He was growing delirious all of his senses were being taken over by Draco and he loved it. All he could smell, taste, and feel were Draco. Draco’s pubes and cock filled his sight and his moans filled his ears. Ron felt he was in heaven as his cock started to harden as well.

“Move,” Draco ordered and Ron did as he started to bob his head up and down Draco’s cock his throat and mouth more than accustomed to it by now. Draco continued to moan and started to touch himself. He slowly began to unclothe himself as Ron continued to suck him. First his robes, then his tie and lastly his shirt revealing porcelain smooth skin. Ron didn’t dare to look up, too busy with sucking Draco’s cock.

“Do you remember the Severing spell I taught you?” Draco asked petting Ron’s hair as his head bobbed. Ron stopped for a moment to give an affirmative hum before continuing. He felt Draco move and watched the beginnings of a six pack bend as Draco reached into Ron’s robes. He pulled out Ron’s wand and sat back against the tree. Draco watched Ron for a couple of more minutes and gritted his teeth as a pressure formed in the base of his cock and balls that made his toes curl. He jabbed the wand into Ron’s head and a small spark zapped Ron lightly. The redhead gave a yelp and stopped.

“Take your wand and performed the spell on your clothes,” Draco ordered. Ron nodded and moved his mouth off of Draco’s dick. Spit and precum coated Ron’s lips and Draco’s cock as he looked up at Draco. His tongue darted out and gathered all pre-cum on his lips before swallowing. He took his wand from Draco and pointed it at the clothes he’s still wearing. “ _Severo!_ ”

Several invisible blades shot from Ron’s wand and sliced at his clothing. His robes, tie, pants, and shirt were torn into thousands of little pieces that fell to the ground leaving him naked and exposed wearing only his shoes and socks.

“Good boy,” Draco smirked. “You do a good job for Fox, don’t you?”

“Yes Fox,” Ron moaned. Draco smirked and sat up straight against the tree. Still wearing his pants he rearranged them so his cock and balls rested outside. “Now give Fox’s cock a kiss before I see that hole of yours Weasley.”

Still on all fours Ron bent down to kiss the pink fat head of Draco’s cock before turning around and exposing his hole. Draco leered at the tight pink pucker that stared back at him. Hair started to form around Ron’s ass and hole and Draco knew that in a few years Ron would have a delightfully hairy ass. The thought of it made Draco’s cock surge and he leaned forward to bite Ron’s butt cheek hard. Ron gave another yelp in pain and looked back. “Foxes bite Weasley,” Draco said. “And you look so delectable.”

Ron blushed as Draco leaned against Ron’s body and whispered, “One day I’ll bite every inch of your skin Ron… marking you up with my teeth. Maybe one will stay as a permanent reminder of which fox you belong to.” Ron just moaned at the idea and pushed his ass against Draco’s cock. “Needy aren’t you?”

“Just fuck me Fox,” Ron groaned. Draco chuckled and took his wand and aimed it at Ron’s ass. Whispering a stretching and lubrication charms. Ron’s hole opened up and filled with a cold lubricant that caused Ron to moan. “Face me,” Draco said.

Ron turned to see Draco sitting comfortable on the ground, his cock pointing straight upward like a homing beacon. “Get on,” Draco ordered. Ron moved and saddle Draco’s lap. He reached behind him and guided the thick cock to his hole and sat down. Ron screamed as the cock invaded his ass but he didn’t stop until he felt Draco’s legs against his ass and Draco’s cock fully sheathed inside him. “I love your voice,” Draco groaned. “You’re so tight Ron… too tight… Fox’ll have to fix that.”

“Fox,” Ron groaned. Draco grabbed both sides of Ron’s hips with amazing strength, locking the boy in place as he began to thrust. Both boys moaned as Draco’s cock moved inside Ron. They both began gyrating their hips, Ron’s ass scrapping against Draco’s pants. They moved in sync at a slow pace, Draco’s cock moving in and out of Ron’s hole opening it more and more as it tries to tighten to it’s original state.

“Fox is going to fuck you so much Weasley,” Draco groaned. “Fox is going to fuck you over and over again until your hole won’t even know what’s it’s like to be close. You want that Weasley? You want Fox to fuck your hole until it can’t be closed?”

Ron groaned in response and pushed his hips down on Draco’s cock. Draco smirked and moved his hands to Ron’s chest. “Then I’ll begin right now,” Draco snarled. He pushed Ron down onto the grass and followed, his cock still buried deep in Ron’s ass. He took Ron’s legs and placed them on his hips as he leaned on top of Ron, his hands on either side and face practically on top of Ron’s. His sweat fell onto Ron’s face and chest.

“Are you ready Ron?” Draco snarled. “Fox is going to fuck his cub.”

“Fuck me Fox,” Ron groaned. Draco’s hips started to piston and he began to violently fuck Ron, his balls giving a loud slap against Ron’s ass. Both boys were groaning and moaning in pleasure as Draco’s cock moved deeper and deeper inside Ron. With the new angle Ron felt like his ass was being split in two as Draco’s thrusts never stopped each violently aggressive. His own cock helplessly bobbed in the middle, smacking between his and Draco’s stomachs, pre-cum coating both of them. Their screams filled the afternoon air as their young bodies quickly approached their climax.

“I’m going to cum in you cub,” Draco groaned. “Just like you came in mine.”

“Fuck me Fox! Cum in me!” Ron screamed. With a final violent thrust Draco unleashed his cum into Ron’s ass, his burning hot cum flooding the warm caverns as Draco kissed Ron. Ron screamed in Draco’s mouth and came, his cum splashing on his and Draco’s stomachs. When their climaxes faded Draco fell on top of Ron, pulling his softening cock out of Ron’s abused ass.

“Merlin that was hot,” Ron breathed.

Draco nodded and looked at Ron. “God I love you,” he breathed before pulling Ron into an exhausted kiss. When they finished Draco stood up and smiled down at the sight before him: Ron was covered in sweat, his skin a delightful red with flush that contrasted against his emerald aura. Cum stained his stomach and chest and his ass oozed Draco’s own cum. “You are so beautiful Ron,” he breathed.

“So are you,” Ron said with a lazy smile. “Can you help me up?”

Draco chuckled and took Ron’s hand, pulling him to his feet. The cold air hit Ron’s ass bringing a shocking sensation inside him as the hot cum and cold air mixed inside him. “Live with me,” Ron said.

“What?”

“During the summers… and even during the breaks, come live with me,” Ron repeated. “I’m sure mum won’t mind. In fact I think Mum would be happy to have you around.”

“Ron…”

“Come on Fox, please? For your cub?” Ron blushed.

Draco chuckled and smiled toothily at Ron. “How can I deny my cub?” He pulled Ron into a hug and held him tightly. Ron could feel tears on his shoulder and started crying as well. “Thank you Ron… thank you so much.”

“I would do anything for you Draco,” Ron whispered. “You know that… I love you.”

“I love you too Ron,” Draco said. They both sighed and looked down at Ron’s naked body. “Let me fix that,” Draco breathed. He took his wand and pointed it at the tattered clothes. “ _Reparo!_ ” he said. Ron’s clothes hovered in the air and sew themselves back together. Fully mended the clothes flew to Ron’s body and dressed themselves; Ron moving his limbs so the clothes could dress themselves onto him.

When Ron was fully clothed they held hands and began their way back to the castle. Ron looked at Draco and kissed his cheek. “I’m happy… that you’re living with me Draco. This is all going to work out. You’ll see. Everything will blow over.”

“I know they will Ron,” Draco sighed. “Look, the situation with Harry… let’s just give it some time, okay? I need… I need to straighten some things out in my head. I don’t hate him, I can’t hate him but… I don’t know I need time.”

“I get that,” Ron said. “I don’t know what to say about it… I just don’t want to lose any of you.”

“You won’t Ron,” Draco said. He squeezed Ron’s hand and pulled it in the air. “Fox has cub in his grasp and Fox never let’s go. I never felt this way about any other boy before Ron, and I’ll never let you.”

“Neither does cub,” Ron smiled. They kissed again and made their way onto the pathway that led back to the castle.

“You know Ron,” Draco said lightly, “It’s pronounced ‘Horcrux’ not ‘Whore-crust.” Draco chuckled at Ron’s slight embarrassment.

“Sorry but it’s the first time I heard it and it sounds similar you know? I thought I said it correctly.”

“You were far from correctly,” Draco chuckled. “Just make sure to not make that mistake in front of Tom… when you finally meet him.”

“Yeah… when I finally meet him,” Ron said. They moved into the Great Hall joining the others. Ron frowned he felt something moving in his hair. He moved his hand to his hair and tried to pick at whatever was itching him. “Draco there’s something in my hair,” he frowned.

They stopped and Draco turned his attention to Ron’s head. “What are you talking about?” he muttered. Draco rooted through Ron’s hair and said “It’s a water beetle Ron. It probably just jumped on your head when we were at the tree.” Flicking the beetle out of Ron’s hair he took Ron’s hand again and they continued to the castle.

“I think you should write to your mother right away,” Draco said as they reached the doors. “At least get her and your father’s permission first.”

“I guess so,” Ron said. He looked at Draco sheepishly and said, “Do you have any parchment or a quill?”

“Do you think I have some?” Draco huffed. “I was too busy being underwater for an hour Ron and I am pretty sure water does not mix well with parchment and ink. Come on we’ll just head to the Gryffindor Tower or maybe the library to grab some.”

“Good idea!” Ron smiled as Draco opened the door for Ron. They walked through and instead of walking straight to the Great Hall, they both turned left towards the Grand Staircase. Draco decided that the library was closer than walking up the seven floors to the Gryffindor Tower so he led Ron there and asked Madam Pince for parchment and ink. They sat at the nearest table and Draco gave Ron the parchment and ink and quill.

Ron dipped the quill in the ink and hovered over the parchment before writing.

_Mum, Dad,_

_There’s something I need to ask you both. Can my boyfriend stay over the summer? He doesn’t have anywhere else to go. I promise he’ll behave and help out wherever he can! This would really mean a lot to both of us._

_Love,_

_Ron_

Draco looked at the short letter and frowned. “That’s it?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” Ron asked as he rolled the small letter.

“Well… it’s just so short and straight-forward,” Draco frowned. “Whenever I had to… write a letter to them it had to be a full scroll at least.”

Ron frowned and said “Just for a small thing? Really Draco this is fine. My folks likes it when things are straight-forward.”

“Okay,” Draco frowned. “I just hope that they won’t be too angry.”

“As if,” Ron scoffed. “Mum always welcomes an extra pair of hands to help around the house. You don’t mind doing laundry I hope.”

“Laundry?” Draco said with a look of disgust. “Weasley I am a Malfoy! Malfoys do not do laundry.”

“You will at home,” Ron countered. “Come on, let’s go get some food. I’m starving!”

“Unbelievable,” Draco muttered as he followed his boyfriend. “I am a Malfoy and h expects me to do laundry? To do housework? What is he even thinking? My family were lords…” Draco frowned again and looked up at Ron who was leading the way to the Great Hall. “Ron,” he said louder, “what do you know about Lordships?”

“What?” Ron asked stopping and turning to Draco.

“Lordships,” Draco repeated. “Most purebloods have them… well the old families do.”

“Never heard of them,” Ron shrugged. “Sounds pompous.”

“It is,” Draco said. “It’s a very old traditional system that’s dying. The only people nowadays who are lords are old patriarchs. Men my father’s age and much older. They are… were my father’s circle of friend and associates. When my father died I was supposed to inherit the Lordship, Dumbledore took me to Gringotts where I learned about this thing, but I refused it.”

“That supposed to be a bad thing? Cause it doesn’t sound like it,” Ron said. “What’s a lordship supposed to do anyways?”

“Well back then, before even Dumbledore was alive I think, they were a way for Purebloods to have power in the old Ministry of Magic. If I remember correctly, Lords always had a seat on the Wizengamot. Obviously this is way before people were elected and more… greedy if you will. Nowadays it’s like Dumbledore said, it’s just a fancy title that those who wish to have power hold on to. I haven’t even heard of it until Dumbledore and that goblin mentioned it,” Draco explained. “However the fact that I refused it made my father’s old circle hate me… it was as if I was spitting in their faces and their tradition.”

“Spit then,” Ron shrugged. “Hell I’ll even help you with the spitting. Lords? Tradition? Why would anyone want to hold onto some stupid old code? It died out for a reason, yeah?”

Draco looked at Ron for a moment. “Yeah… I guess so,” he said. “The old families were really… disappointed about my decision.”

“Then screw them,” Ron shrugged. “Who cares what they think? That lordship thing died for a reason. Besides, Lord Draco Malfoy makes you sound like a more pompous ass than you are.”

“Thanks Ron,” Draco said with a small chuckle.

“Welcome,” Ron said. “I’m going to borrow Harry’s owl. She’s faster than mine.”

“Okay,” Draco said, not wanting to question it or talk about Harry. They’ve reached the Great Hall too soon and turned to each other. “Well I’ll see you later Ron,” Draco smiled.

“Yeah of course,” Ron smiled. Draco leaned and kissed Ron again. “I promise I’ll think about it,” Draco whispered. “Just give me time… please? And tell Harry the same thing.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ron said. “’Love you.”

“I love you too Ron,” Draco said.

They went into the Great Hall and separated to their separate house tables. Ron ignored Hermione’s and Ginny’s stares as he sat down next to Harry. “Hey Harry, can I borrow Hedwig? I have a letter that I need to send to Mum,” he said.

“Yeah sure,” Harry said immediately.

“Why you lettering Mum? You never do that?” Ginny asked from down the table. Ron just looked at her for a second before saying, in quite a loud voice so most of Gryffindor Table and some of Hufflepuff, could hear, “Because I want to invite my boyfriend to stay over the summer.”

He could feel the glare from Ginny but for some reason Ron did not care. He was too happy to care about Ginny’s glares or Hermione’s. He ate his lunch quickly and ran to the Owlery with Harry to find Hedwig. Harry called her down and tired Ron’s letter to her leg before letting her fly away.

 

As they entered March the weather became drier, but cruel winds skinned their hands and faces every time they went out onto the grounds. There were delays in the post because the owls kept being blown off course. Hedwig came back on Friday morning with half her feathers sticking up the wrong way; Harry had to spend half an hour fixing her feathers as Ron read Mrs. Weasley’s shorter reply.

_Of course he’s welcome Ron! I will set up another bed in the twin’s room for him._

_Mum_

Draco couldn’t believe the letter. It was just two sentences and yet… it was fill with ten times more love than any of his parents’ letters. “My parents’ letters were paragraphs upon paragraphs and yet… your family’s are just so direct and small,” he said amazed.

“Yeah well you should see Percy’s,” Ron said. “The old git thinks he’s writing a novel or something when he writes. Takes Mum hours to read them.”

“Well that’s how my parents are… were,” Draco corrected himself. “Proper, everything had to be proper. Do you want to know how long it took me to just excuse myself to go to the bathroom when I was little?”

Ron chuckled and said, “Can’t be too long?”

“A minute,” Draco said. “I needed to say the question correctly, apologize for interrupting dinner, apologize for talking about a vulgar subject and then ask the question in a different format without bringing up any vulgar terms like lavatory or bathroom.”

“Merlin!” Ron said. “How did you live with that?”

“I went before dinner or held it in,” Draco said.

“Wow… we just excused ourselves and leave,” Ron said. “The most Mum would say is to remind us to wash our hands.” Draco looked bashfully. “Hey don’t worry! You’re going to love it there, I promise. In fact first day we’re there I’m going to see about having Harry and you switch beds. Usually Harry’s in my room but maybe we can convince Mum to change.”

“That would be fun,” Draco smirked. He leaned in and kissed Ron’s cheek whispering “Fox can hump his cub every night then.”

“And cub will love humping his Fox every night too,” Ron whispered. They both giggled and kissed again.

“Ron…Ron stop… we have to get to Potion’s class,” Draco said as Ron started kissing his neck.

“Don’t want to see smelly Snape,” Ron groaned.

“Ronald, we are going,” Draco said. Ron groaned but nodded. “Fine,” he sighed taking Draco’s hand and letting his Slytherin lead the way, Draco chuckling. They met up with Harry who silently joined them.

The Slytherin girls were standing in a huddle outside the classroom door along with Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy’s pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle’s broad back as Draco and Ron approached. Ron and Harry were the first Gryffindors.

“There they are, there they are!” she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. Ron saw that Pansy had a magazine in her hands—Witch Weekly. The moving picture showed a curly-haired witch who was smiling toothily and pointing at a large sponge cake with her wand.

“You might find something to interest you in there, Weasley!” Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Ron, who caught it, looking startled. Draco stared at them confused as well. The three boys looked down at the magazine. A color photograph of Harry headed a short piece entitled:

_Harry Potter’s Secret Heartache_

A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, _writes Rita Skeeter._ Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady boyfriend at Hogwarts, Pure-blood Ronald Weasley (A very progressive matter that all at Witch Weekly approve of and were expecting numerous pictures of the couple as is their rights). Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.

Mr. Weasley, a wild but ambitious boy, seems to have a taste for rich and grieve-stricken wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the horrible news of the tragic deaths of Draco Malfoy’s parents, a handsome Slytherin who became a likable and popular student of his House since day one, Mr. Weasley has been toying with both boys’ affections. Draco, who is openly smitten with the devious Mr. Weasley, has already agreed to living with Mr. Weasley over the summer holidays, and insists that he “never felt this way about any other girl” and will “never let [Mr. Weasley] go.”

However, it might not be Mr. Weasley’s doubtful natural charm that have captured those unfortunate boys’ interest.

“He’s really disgusting,” says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student who was once Draco Malfoy’s best friend, “but he’d be well up to making a Love Potion, his brothers are known tricksters they’ll know how to get their hands on one.”

Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts , and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter’s well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier more feminine candidate.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter XIV**

“What is this garbage?” Draco sneered. “How did this woman—“

Draco was unable to finish his question as the classroom door opened and Snape stepped out. “Get in.” he said coldly.

Ron and Draco shared a look as they walked into the potions classroom, separating as Ron walked with Harry to the back where Hermione was sitting (still not talking to either boy) and Draco made his way towards the front where Blaise was already in his normal seat. Theo was walking towards them when Parkinson sat down next to Draco. Article still in hand Draco whispered, “What the hell Parkinson?”

“What? It’s only the truth,” Parkinson smiled. “The gold digger ruined you.”

“Or really? How so?” Draco asked trying to mind his temper as he started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion. A potion that Parkinson sorely needed in Draco’s opinion.

“You refused your Lordship, which my father does not like, insulted my family by refusing our family’s agreement for us to marry, and you’re hanging about with blood-traitors like the Weasley. Some would say that you’re no longer a Dark Wizard at all,” Parkinson jeered.

Draco gave her a dirty look and couldn’t help but laugh softly. He looked around the woman for a moment and saw a dully unimpressive emerald outline that looked like green paint on a paper that was soaked in water, it’s runny colors left to fade away as it baked in the sun. He then turned to Blaise to see his Aura, which was a more stronger green than Parkinson but paled in comparison to Harry’s spots of emerald. He turned to Ron in the back and smirked as he stared at the brilliant dark-green that poked through the golden yellows of his aura. The green surrounded his lower body, strongest around his hips, and there was a small brilliant emerald color near his heart. Looking back at the dull-greenness of Parkinson’s aura Draco couldn’t help but smirk mirthfully.

“Parkinson, do you want to know what I am?” Draco asked casually as Snape glided to a table of Gryffindors and started belittling them.

“What are you talking about Draco?” Parkinson said.

Draco just looked at Blaise who looked more interested in Draco’s and Pansy’s conversation than their actual work. “Simple girl,” Draco said with a slight air of superiority. “I am an Aura Reader. I can read Auras.”

“What the fuck is an aura?” Pansy said a bit too loudly.

“Parkinson! A point from Slytherin for language!” Snape yelled from across the room earning several snickers from the class.

Draco chuckled as Snape looked their way and made sure that he looked busy. “An Aura Reader,” Draco said as he worked on the potion. “Is a person who can, obviously, read auras. It is a rare ability, there are only two Aura Readers in the castle if not all of England, and a very useful one at that. All magicalpeople have a sort of light that shines from their body that is a representation of their natural affiliation to either Light or Dark Magic. Yellow or golden for Light Magic, Green or Emerald for the Dark Arts. The brightness and intensity of the color shows the person’s magical power. You, my dear Pansy Parkinson, is much like your father when it comes to your auras. Dull faded green with a disgusting yellow-green color that is rather nauseating to look at. Let’s compare that disgustingness to Blaise here, he has moderate green and yellow mix that is typical for our age with the green shining in bits and pieces. To put it simply Parkinson: You are a very weak person who has no right to talk of being a Dark Wizard when you and your family barely qualify as one, if not at all. Oh and my father wanted me to date a Greengrass. Much more respectable family with prettier daughters whose faces don’t resemble a mutt.”

Parkinson was left speechless. Draco could see the beginnings of tears appear at the corners of her eyes but he didn’t really care. What he did care about was how this stupid article was going to affect his boyfriend, and worst, if this will have his boyfriend’s mother change her mind about him staying over. She didn’t talk for the rest of the lesson which only made Draco grateful to the girl for the first time in his life. Though he couldn’t help but notice the looks she gave Ron every now and then especially when Karkaroff stormed into the room demanding to speak to Snape.

At the end of the lesson Draco caught up with Ron, Blaise following them. “What are you thinking about?” Ron asked. “Your brow’s furrowed.”

“How did that woman know about our plans?” Draco asked. “We were alone! There was no one for miles and I certainly did not see an aura.”

“I don’t know,” Ron said. “But right now I’m more curious to what Karkaroff wants with Snape.”

“Blaise, what do you think of this?” Draco asked turning to Blaise. “How could that damnable woman know about our plans?”

“I don’t know,” Blaise shrugged. “I’m just here because I don’t want to be stuck with Parkinson or any of the others right now. You see that look she was giving you? Livid.”

“She deserves it,” Draco shrugged. He turned to Ron and said “That girl had the gull to say she is better than you in any way! As if. No girl could even begin to compare themselves to you Ron.”

“Thanks… I think,” Ron said. “Uhh there’s Harry… I gotta go now. Bye Draco.” He kissed Draco’s cheek before joining up with Harry.

“Why isn’t Granger with them?” Blaise frowned.

“She’s…. not caring for guys like us,” Draco said. “But who needs her? Goody-two shoes Granger’s as golden as they come.”

Blaise couldn’t help but chuckle. “You really don’t like girls,” he stated.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well it’s just that it seems you’re separating yourself from any female,” Blaise smirked. “Your friends are as followed,” Blaise held out his hand and counted on each finger “Me, Nott, Potter, your boyfriend Ron, and You-Know-Who. Crabbe and Goyle are more thugs than friends; and last I check all of them are guys. Not a single girl at all. I’m surprised they didn’t start calling you a ‘woman-hater’ or something.” Blaise smirked.

“I am not a woman hater!” Draco said. “I simply cannot stand idiots. It is not my fault that most if not all the girls in our year are idiotic morons.”

“The same can be said for Harry too,” Blaise said. “True he talks and hangs out with his Quidditch mates every now and then but mostly he surrounds himself with you, Ron, or You-Know-Who. Which reminds me… how exactly did that happen?”

“You’re just talking nonsense,” Draco rebutted. “Is it really our fault that the females Harry and I once surrounded ourselves with turned out to be homophobic? Let’s look at the girls we chose to surround ourselves with: Granger, Parkinson, Greengrass, and Female Weasley to an extent. Now, from my own experience I’ve learned that Parkinson and Greengrass are two vile people who chose to put an unhealthy amount of faith in old traditions and marriage agreements and are homophobic. Now Granger and Female Weasley, from what I heard from both Harry and Ron, are homophobic as well. Or at least they really hate me.”

“Not a hard thing,” Blaise said. “But still it would be nice if you try to be kinder to girls.”

“Do you expect me to magically come up with a female to befriend or something?” Draco suggested sassily. “Perhaps she’ll be from the Americas or something? A transfer student this late in the year, or maybe she’ll be a long lost relative to Salazar Slytherin or another of our founders.”

“Nothing like that,” Blaise laughed. “Just stop being so cold. I’m sure there are some females out there who will put up with your friendship.”

Draco looked at Blaise and sighed. “Why are we even having this conversation anyway Blaise?”

“Because you seemed down and I wanted to make you feel better,” Blaise said simply. “That and when was the last time we actually had a conversation?”

Draco stopped and thought for a moment. “Actually… I don’t recall,” he said.

“Exactly. And with everything that’s happening with you I don’t want you to drift away from me or grow even more cynical than you actually are.”

Draco looked at his friend for a second before smiling softly. “Thanks Blaise… thanks.”

“Anytime,” Blaise said. “Now come on, I want your opinion on someone.” They began to walk down the dungeon corridors. Blaise, with a smirk, turned to Draco and said “Seriously? An American transfer student who’s a long lost relative to Slytherin?”

“Most improbably thing I’ve thought of,” Draco shrugged.

“That’s just stupid,” Blaise laughed.

 

“What do you suppose this means Tom?” Harry asked his boyfriend. They were in their room again. Harry felt a comforting familiarity as the button-down silk shirt brushed against his skin.

Tom was dressed in a similar dark-green color as Harry and was sitting in his throne. “His Dark Mark obviously must be growing clearer and clearer,” Tom said. “However, if that is due to my growing power or the husk’s I cannot say. I should be more powerful, after all I have more of my soul than the husk. Even when I was just the diary.”

“Tom… do you think that Volde—the husk might be more powerful because he barely has a soul?” Harry asked walking up to Tom. Tom chuckled and shook his head.

“No my love, I am positive that is not the case,” Tom said. He took Harry’s hand which held the Gaunt Ring and brought it to his lips. Kissing the ring he said, “Harry my prince, together we are more powerful than the husk could ever realize. There is no need to worry about it or whatever force it is trying to build. We are more powerful now and forever. What we should be thinking about is what we are going to do once I have my body back.” Tom gave a lewd smirk and pulled Harry onto his lap, his other hand caressing Harry’s ass. “I already have plans for the night of my return obviously… but we also need to plan further ahead.”

“How far ahead?” Harry asked.

“As far as we can plan,” Tom said. “How will we lead the Death Eaters? I am certain that they will be skeptical to follow two teenagers, even if they are the Dark Lord and the Dark Prince. You are a nobody to them. And I have the body of when I was sixteen. There is a good chance that I’ll actually have to go to Hogwarts next year and pose as a student. Most of my supporters must be old wizards by now, those around Lucius’s age or so. They are too proud to follow who they think is a child.”

“So what are we going to do?” Harry asked.

Tom closed his eyes to think. Harry waited patiently as Tom thought, staring at his relaxed expressions. They sat for five minutes in silence before Tom spoke again. “We will have to see,” he said. “From the memories of the Horcruxes I’ve taken, the first time I have done this it was a war just like the war Gellert Grindelwald tried and failed long ago.”

“Who?”

“He isn’t important,” Voldemort said. “What is important is that we needn’t raise suspicion to our goal. I believe it would be wise, if not better, if we… start from scratch.”

“Start from scratch?” Harry frowned. “What do you mean by that?” Tom looked down at Harry an expecting expression on his face. Harry’s eyes went as wide as saucers and stood quickly. “No! We can’t do that!”

“And why not?”

“Tom you can’t be serious!” Harry yelled.

“It is the simplest solution,” Tom said. “If we need to start from scratch then we need to wipe the slate clean. If we don’t then that will only lead to complications in the future. We do not need them.”

“I am not doing this,” Harry said. “You know how it affected Draco—affect me! If we do this… Tom if you care about me at all you wouldn’t even think of doing that!”

Tom just stared at Harry. “I don’t know why you are mad about this, this is the only logical outcome. Because they failed me once, so why would I even try to put my trust in them again?”

“But still you can’t just do that!” Harry said.

“My loyal followers are in Azkaban wasting away and those who aren’t are traitors and cowards,” Tom yelled standing to his feet. “Why wouldn’t I throw them away, they are useless me and you. Do you think that they will respect us Harry? Follow us? No they will betray us and will lead to set backs.”

“There are other ways Tom,” Harry said. “You don’t have to just resort to that!”

“I am the Dark Lord!” Tom yelled his voice filled with frustration. “I am more powerful than anyone alive and look at me! Stuck in a damn diary while that husk is bringing insult to my name, my legacy! Any follows I had fled or gravitated to the damnable husk! I have much more power than the husk can even dream of and yet I am forced to return to my diary if I use too much or stray from too long! Even touching you Harry causes me to be exhausted. And do my followers help me? No! They don’t even know that I am growing power! Their Dark Marks are reacting to the husk not me. Not even one of them search for me after Lucius gave my diary to that Weasley girl. But you Harry… you are so much more loyal than any of those shriveling cowards. You helped me while they stayed away; you suffered with me through my hardships while they hid in their comforts; you are the sole reason why I am returning to my rightful place.

“Harry, my prince, my heir, my love… they don’t deserve you. They don’t deserve your mercy,” Tom whispered. He took a step forward but Harry retreated.

“No Tom,” he said. “They don’t deserve that either. … I’m not giving them my mercy, hell I don’t want to give any of them that based on how they treated Draco at the funeral. But Tom if you’re resorting to that for every offense… you’re not going to have any followers.”

“I will have you,” Tom said. “And that is all I need.”

“Will you?” Harry asked frowning. Tom looked at him shocked. Harry just met his gaze. “Tom… I’m fourteen years old. I’m not… I don’t want… I’m not even supposed to be able to do the things you’ve made me do, see the horrible things you made me see and just smile on like my life is normal. It’s killing me Tom, it really is! I don’t know if I can’t take it anymore.”

Tom watched as Harry fought back the tears and shook his head. “After everything we’ve been through, I keep forgetting how young you are Harry,” he said. “My sweet Harry, come here,” his voice turned gentle.

Harry in a moment of utter weakness rushed to Tom and grabbed onto him. He wasn’t crying instead he just held onto his lover for support. Tom sighed and hugged him close. “I’m an awful boyfriend,” Tom muttered. “I am so obsessed with my power that I forget the important things. You should only be worried about puberty and boys, not resurrections and loyalty. …Perhaps you’re right Harry, perhaps you’re wrong but what happens will have a lasting effect on all of us. I should never have dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me,” Harry said. “I accepted you years ago. I’m yours Tom, I always am. But… that doesn’t mean that I’m ready to see it again. Please don’t make me see it again.”

“I promise Harry,” Tom sighed. He looked down at Harry and marveled at how small he looked in that moment. “You’ll never be forced to see or do that again… not until you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Harry sighed, just wanting to stay in his boyfriend’s arms for all eternity.

 

The weekend was quiet. Harry gotten several letters from Sirius asking about how he was, what was the situation at Hogwarts, and general advice to be safe and cautious around Karkaroff. Harry answered in kind and spent the entirely of Hogsmeade worrying about Sirius who appeared to be hiding out in a cave near Hogwarts. He and Ron visited Sirius with Hermione, who was on tense talking terms with the boys again for some reason, and while Harry talked with Sirius his mind was lost as his thoughts turned to Tom and his plans. Distracted Harry watched as the weekend flew by and before he knew it, it was Monday morning.

When the post owls arrived Harry looked up to see a gray owl soaring down toward Ron. “Since when did you subscribe to the Daily Prophet?” Harry asked.

“Never,” Ron said as the owl landed in front of him, closely followed by four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny.

“What the hell?” Ron said as the owls all dropped their letters and left. He opened the first one and read it, his face going red. “Honestly!”

“What’s up?” Harry asked.

Ron thrust the letter at Harry, who saw that it was not handwritten, but composed from pasted letters that seemed to have been cut out of the _Daily Prophet_.

Y **O** _U_ **AR** E a Wi _C_ K **E** D BoY. HArRY PoT **T** E _R_ **De** S _E_ RvE **s** _B_ EtT **E** r. GO B **A** C **K** To T _h_ E _G_ **u** TtE _R_ **S** Yo **U** P _O_ o **R** **POoF.**

“Damn they’re all like that,” Ron moaned opening one letter after another. “’ _Harry Potter can do better than the likes of you. …’ ‘You should boil in gold if you want it so much you gold-digger….’_ Ow!” He had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over his hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.”

“Undiluted bubotuber pus,” Hermione said staring at the Ron’s hands. “You should go to the hospital wing immediately.”

“Ow!” Ron said, tears starting in his eyes as he did his best to get the pus off of his hands with a napkin, but his fingers were so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though he were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

“How did she know?” Hermione asked as Ron hurried out of the Great Hall, cradling his hands. “How did Skeeter know about his conversation with… Malfoy?”

“What’s your problem with them anyway?” Harry asked. “Draco’s not exactly bullying us anymore is he? I say Ron’s actually a good influence on him.”

“Yeah but still he’s still Malfoy,” Hermione said. “He may be nice now but that doesn’t replace three years of bullying. How you and Ron could throw all those stuff away so easily I can’t tell.”

“Well Draco and I didn’t really start talking till last year,” Harry said. “And even then it was mostly apology after apology and trading insults. He’s not perfect but hey, he’s trying.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Hermione sighed. She looked at the letters and frowned “This is a really horrible one. ‘ _I read in_ Witch Weekly _about how you are playing Harry Potter false for money and that boy has had enough hardship and I will be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I can find a big enough envelope! He deserves a girl who is better than you!’”_

“But I’m gay… and I have a boyfriend,” Harry frowned. “Ron’s going to have to watch out for himself.”

“Indeed,” Hermione said frowning. She looked at the Slytherin table and said, “Do you think one of them could have sent one of these letters?”

“If they did, Draco would be cursing out a storm,” Harry said. “They’ll probably be worse off than Ron right now.”

“Really,” Hermione just stated, looking at the Slytherin table for a bit, her eyes falling on Draco and Blaise Zabini.

Ron didn’t turn up for Herbology. As Harry and Hermione, their friendship restored, left the greenhouse for their Care of Magical Creatures class, they saw Malfoy, Zabini, and Nott descending the stone steps of the castle. Pansy Parkinson was whispering and giggling behind them with her gang of Slytherin girls. Catching sight of Harry, Pansy called, “Potter, have you split up with your boyfriend? What’s the matter poo—“

She somehow tripped while walking, her mouth still open as she fell onto the muddy ground. Harry laughed and smiled when he saw Draco pocketing his wand as he continued walking. Ron did not show up until the end of Care of Magical Creatures looking miserable as his hands were very heavily bandaged. The bell rang across the grounds for lunch’ the rest of the class set off back to the castle, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind to help Hagrid put the nifflers back in their boxes.

“What yeh done ter your hands, Ron?” Hagrid asked, looking concerned.

Ron told him about the hate mail he had received that morning, and the envelope full of bubotuber pus.

“Aaah, don’t worry,” Hagrid said gently, looking down at him. “They’re jus’ nutters, Ron. Don’ open ‘em if yeh get any more. Chuck ‘em straigh’ in the fire.”

Hate mail continued to arrive for Ron over the following week, and although he followed Hagrid’s advice and stopped opening it, several of his ill-wishers sent Howlers, which exploded at the Gryffindor table and shrieked insults and rude words at him for the whole Hall to hear. Even those people who didn’t read Witch Weakly knew all about the supposed Harry-Draco-Ron triangle now. The only good thing that came from it was that whatever tension between Ron and Hermione started to fade as the two got to talking again.

“It’ll die down, though,” Harry told Ron, “if we just ignore it. …People got bored with the stuff she wrote about me last time—“

“Yeah well this time it’s just about three gay poofs not just one,” Ron said.

“How is she even doing this?” Hermione frowned. “She’s supposed to be banned from the grounds!”

“I don’t know,” Ron said.

The next morning Ron had gotten a practically long letter from his mum. He was petrified to open it in the Great Hall and stared at the Slytherin Table until Draco noticed him. When he did both boys stood up and left the Great Hall going to their small bench in the corner of the courtyard. “It’s a letter from my mum,” Ron said nervously. He shoved the letter in Draco’s chest and said “I can’t read it. … Can you?”

“Yeah… sure,” Draco said. He opened the letter looked down at it and read, “’ _Ronald Weasley! How dare you not tell us this woman is bothering you. I am absolutely livid right now, your father and I have been hammered with letters from all around the country all about you and Harry calling me nastier things that would make your Great Aunt Muriel blush! I even thought of unsubscribing from_ Witch Weekly _if it wasn’t for the recipes. Honestly the thought of that woman writing about your lives is utterly revolting. Just wait until I get my hands on her I swear I’ll wring her neck until she can’t even form a sentence! And you! You are in trouble Ron. How many times have we told you, how many times Ron have we told you, told your sister, told your brothers to owl us when something is the matter? Your father and I are going to have a talk with all of you the next time we see you about this. This is totally unacceptable behavior! Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble? And why didn’t you or Harry even think of talking to one of us about this article? I have been waiting a week but not even one owl from either of you came by; not even Hedwig! The next time something happens YOU WILL TELL ME ABOUT IT OR I WILL HEX YOUR HANDS TO YOUR KNEES AND FORCE YOU TO CLEAN THE BURROW BY YOURSELF!’_ Wow… she’s a very umm Ron are you okay?”

Draco looked at Ron whose skin paled several shades. “She’s mad at me,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“She’s going to make me clean the entire house with my hands hexed to my knees,” Ron said again looking terribly frightened.

“You should be happy,” Draco said. “At least she doesn’t believe the stupid article.”

“Yeah but still,” Ron said, still scared of the punishment his mother threatened him with.

“Come on, you should calm down,” Draco smiled. “If you do… I might even do one of those stupid tricks you like.”

Ron chuckled and said “Nah you don’t need to do that. It’s good though right, that she’s just angry that I didn’t tell her?”

“Loads,” Draco said. He couldn’t help but smirk, “If she reacts like this to that stupid article just imagine how she’ll react in the future when you tell her you’re pregnant.”

“Easy,” Draco said. He pulled Ron up and spanked his butt. “You have the hips for it. Come on, let’s go back inside.”

 

Schoolwork began to take over all of their lives, and Hermione, as a way to show Ron how sorry she felt for their argument, started investigating how exactly Rita Skeeter listened to Ron and Draco’s relationship. Harry frankly marveled at the fact that Hermione could research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else that they had to do. He was working flat-out just to get through all their homework only to have more lessons with Tom as he slept, though he made a point of sending regular food packages up to the cave in the mountain for Sirius (It also helped that Tom took a liking for Sirius immediately although they can’t properly have a conversation yet). He enclosed notes to Sirius, telling him that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Easter came and went and before Harry knew it the start of the summer term began.

In the last week of May Professor McGonagall held him back in Transfiguration. “You are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o’clock, Potter,” she told him. “Mr. Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task.”

As at half past eight that night, Harry left Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor Tower and went downstairs. As he crossed the entrance hall, Cedric came up from the Hufflepuff common room.

“What d’you reckon it’s going to be?” he asked Harry as they went together down the stone steps, out into the cloudy night. Harry’s eyes went to the forest and for a moment watched as some animals run through the trees; a fox chasing a squirrel before disappearing into the Forest’s darkness.

“Something to do with the Quidditch field,” Harry said. “Hopefully flying.”

“That wouldn’t be too bad,” Cedric said. They walked down the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, turning through a gap in the stands, and walked out onto the field.

“What’ve they done to it?” Cedric said indignantly, stopping dead.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it  that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

“They’re hedges!” Harry said, bending to examine the nearest one.

“Seriously? A maze?” Tom chuckled in his mind.

“Hello there!” called a cheery voice.

Ludo Bagman was standing in the middle of the field with Krum and Fleur. Harry and Cedric made their way toward them, climbing over the hedges. Fleur beamed at Harry as he came nearer. Her attitude toward him had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the lake. _Kindness pays off,_ he couldn’t help but smirk at Tom.

“Well, what d’you think?” Bagman said happily as Harry and Cedric climbed over the last hedge. “Growing nicely, aren’t they? Give them a month and Hagrid’ll have them twenty feet high. Don’t worry,” he added, grinning, spotting the less-than-happy expressions on Harry’s and Cedric’s faces, “you’ll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over! And what is the task? Well, it certainly needs no explanation: a maze!

“There will be obstacles of course. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures … then there will be spells that must be broken … all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze.” Bagman grinned at Harry and Cedric. “Then Mr. Krum will enter … then Miss Delacour. But you’ll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?”

Harry, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all. However, he nodded politely like the other champions.

“Harry,” Tom said in his head, a small smile in his tone. “We only have a month my love. Then we can be normal… like you want. I can be a proper boyfriend, a proper lover. We can do this, whatever trap the husk has set for us will its downfall.”

 _I know Tom,_ Harry thought grinning at the thought of him and Tom being a normal couple. How he longed so hard just to hold Tom’s hand and walk down corridors.

They left and Harry decided to split off from the group, needing some alone time. He walked towards the forest and looked around. He wondered if that fox had caught his dinner. His thoughts were interrupted by something moving behind the trees. Harry turned, expecting the fox for some reason, only to see Draco leading against a tree looking smug. “Hello Potter,” he said.

“Draco!” Harry said surprised. “How did you—what are you doing here?”

“Just out for a nighttime stroll and then I see you all alone,” Draco said nonchalantly, yet Harry could tell there was a brisk manner in his voice. “Very bad idea you know.”

“Why are you even out here?” Harry asked ignoring Draco’s comment.

“To be honest Potter, I saw you heading to the Quidditch stadium. And I was curious,” Draco said.

“Oh,” Harry said. He looked around awkwardly. “Listen Draco I—“

“I don’t want hear your apologizes Harry,” Draco said. “So don’t. Just… just give it time.”

Harry frowned but said nothing. An awkward silence fell upon them that Draco broke. “So, a maze,” he said.

“Yeah… with obstacles and everything,” Harry said. “But at least when it’s done Tom will be here.”

“I guess he will be,” Draco nodded. They both turned to face the Quidditch pitch, their backs to the woods. “What will he do? Once he’s back?”

“We’re just going to be a normal couple… for a little while,” Harry said. “He has all of these big plans and expectations and yet I’m just excited to hold him whenever I want. Imagine if you and Ron were only allowed to touch each other once a month for only a little while. Wouldn’t you look forward for the day when you can do it forever?”

“I would,” Draco nodded. “Not being able to touch my Weasley would just be plain torture.”

There was movement again and both boys turned to see a man staggering out from behind a tall oak. For a moment, Harry didn’t recognize him … then he realized it was Mr. Crouch.

He looked as though he had been traveling for days. The knees of his robes were ripped and bloody, his face scratched; he was unshaven and gray with exhaustion. His neat hair and mustache were both in need of a wash and a trim. His strange appearance, however, was nothing to the way he was behaving. Muttering and gesticulating, Mr. Crouch appeared to be talking to someone that he alone could see. He reminded Harry of an old tramp he had seen once when out shopping with the Dursleys. Harry could feel Tom smirking with amusement. “Interesting,” he drawled out.

Harry walked slowly to Mr. Crouch, who did not look at him, but continued to talk to a nearby tree. “Mr. Crouch? Are you alright?” Harry said loudly.

Crouch’s eyes were rolling in his head. He surged forward and seized a handful of Harry’s robes. “Dumbledore!” He gasped. “I need… to see… Dumbledore!”

“Okay,” Harry said, “if you let go, Mr. Crouch, we can go up to the—“

“I’ve done… stupid thing….” Mr. Crouch breathed. He looked utterly mad. His eyes were rolling and bulging, and a trickle of spittle was sliding down his chin. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him a terrible effort. “Must… tell… Dumbledore…” he fell down.

“Get up, Mr. Crouch,” Harry said loudly and clearly. “Get up, I’ll take you to Dumbledore!”

“My… I haven’t seen this for years,” Tom commentated. “Madness Harry, be careful.”

“Who… you?” Mr. Crouch whispered.

“I’m a student at the school,” Harry said looking around at Draco for some help, but Draco looked extremely nervous.

Crouch was pulling Harry closer; Harry tried to loosen Crouch’s grip on his robes, but it was too powerful. “Warn… Dumbledore…”

“I’ll get Dumbledore if you let go of me,” Harry said. “Just let go, Mr. Crouch, and I’ll get him. …”

Crouch’s grip loosened for a second as he turned to talk to the tree again. Harry scrambled out of his reach and looked at Draco. “Stay here,” he gasped. “I’ll get Dumbledore.”

“As if!” Draco yelled. “I am not staying here alone with a madman Potter!”

“I need to go and tell Dumbledore about him,” Harry argued pointing to Mr. Crouch. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco just glared at him before turning and squatting next to the mad Crouch. “Hurry,” he demanded and Harry sprinted off.

“Amazing,” Tom mused. “His insanity, it is a work of art if I can say so. Whoever has done this must be working with our little intruder at Hogwarts. That, or maybe the intruder and whoever made him mad is one in the same. Whatever the circumstances it means that whatever plan the husk was plotting may be showing their threads. Pull them love and we might find out the traitor who decided to help the husk.”

Five minutes later he was hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor.

“Lem—lemon drop!” He panted at it, saying the password that he used two years ago. The stone gargoyle stayed in place. “Move!” Harry shouted at it. “C’mon!”

Harry looked up and down the dark corridor. Perhaps Dumbledore was in the staffroom? He started running as fast as he could toward the staircase—

“POTTER!”

Harry skidded to a halt and looked around. Snape had just emerged from the hidden staircase behind the stone gargoyle. The wall was sliding shut behind him even as he beckoned Harry back toward him.

“What are you doing here, Potter?”

“I need to see Professor Dumbledore!” Harry said, running back up the corridor and skidding to a standstill in front of Snape instead. “It’s Mr. Crouch … he just turned up … he’s in the forest … he’s asking—“

“What is this rubbish?” Snape said, his black eyes glittering. “What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Crouch!” Harry shouted growing impatient. “From the Ministry! He’s ill and something—he’s in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just tell me the password up to—“

“The headmaster is busy, Potter,” Snape said, his thin mouth curling into an unpleasant smile. In the back of his mind Harry could feel Tom moving around, as if waiting to tell him how to get past this annoyance but Harry blocked him out.

“I’ve got to tell Dumbledore!” Harry yelled. In his anger he found that his voice started to sound… different.

“Didn’t you hear me, Potter?”

The stone wall behind Snape slid open. Dumbledore was standing there, wearing long green robes and a mildly curious expression. “Is there a problem?” he said, looking between Harry and Snape.

“Professor!” Harry said, sidestepping Snape before Snape could speak, “Mr. Crouch is here—he’s down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!”

Harry expected Dumbledore to ask questions and was surprised when he didn’t. “Lead the way,” Dumbledore said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry, leaving Snape standing next to the gargoyle and looking twice as ugly.

 _Tom,_ Harry thought quickly, _my voice why did it start to change?_

“It appears that your anger can trigger the Horcrux inside of you to start activating,” Tom said. “Very peculiar seeing as you’ve gotten angry before… perhaps it has something to do with your particular anger at Severus Snape? Or maybe it is a mixture of stress and anger… we can always test it later, it could be useful for us later on if you can take the Horcrux’s powers by will.”

_So you didn’t try to—_

“God no Harry,” Tom said. “You told me not to do it so I’ve never even dreamed of possessing your body.”

That relieved Harry a little but also caused a sense of confusion as he thought about the Horcrux inside him. “I left him with Draco,” Harry panted as he led Dumbledore out of the castle and into the darkness. His mind filled with worry for his friend as he ran off towards the forest, the old man following him. “Draco?” He shouted.

No one answered.

“They were here,” Harry said to Dumbledore. “They were definitely somewhere around here. …”

“Lumos,” Dumbledore said, lighting his wand and holding it up. Its narrow beam traveled from black trunk to black trunk, illuminating the ground. And then it fell upon a pair of feet.

Harry and Dumbledore hurried forward. Draco was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign of Mr. Crouch anywhere. Dumbledore bent over Draco and gently lifted one of his eyelids.

“Stunned,” he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittering in the wandlight as he peered around the surrounding trees. He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid’s cabin. Harry saw something silvery dart out of the it streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over Draco again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, “ _Ennervate_.”

Draco opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up but Dumbledore stopped him. “He attacked me!” Draco muttered. “That madman Crouch attacked me! I was looking where Harry went and he attacked me from behind!”

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached them, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying a crossbow.

“Professor Dumbledore!” he said, his eyes widening. “Harry—what the—?”

“Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Snape,” Dumbledore said. “When you’ve done that, kindly alert Professor Moody—“

“No need, Dumbledore,” said a wheezy growl, “I’m here.”

Moody was limping toward them, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. Harry looked at Draco relieved that he didn’t look too hurt but grimaced at the glare Draco was shooting him. Hagrid ran off to get Snape and soon Moody limped into the forest to look for Crouch. The three wizards were silent, Draco shooting nasty looks at Harry who just stood there feeling sheepishly guilty.

They heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid’s stomps and Harry barely lifted his head to see Snape hurrying along behind him. “What is this Dumbledore?” he demanded.

“Crouch attacked me,” Draco said, now sitting.

“Oh, so Potter was telling the truth,” Snape muttered. He walked up to Draco and, grabbing his arm, pulled him up. “Get to the hospital wing,” he said. “Dumbledore and I need to talk.”

“Yes sir,” Draco muttered. He walked by Harry, his shoulder hitting Harry’s hard. “Is anyone safe around you scarhead?” Draco sneered under his breath.

Harry frowned and just stood there until Hagrid escorted him back to Gryffindor Tower; both of them silent. He clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, to tell them what had happened.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter XV**

It was a very warm day in Divination class. Harry and Draco have not spoken since the incident in the forest and Harry’s brain has been distracted about it since. Harry was extremely grateful to Tom who decided not to push the issue once.

The dimly lit room was sweltering hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. Harry’s head swam as he made his way over to one of the curtained windows. While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, disentangling her shawl form a lamp, he opened it an inch or so and settled back in his chintz armchair, so that a soft breeze played across his face. It was extremely comfortable.

“Pay attention Harry,” Tom sighed in his mind.

“My dears,” Professor Trelawney said, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at them all with her strangely enlarged eyes, “we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights. …”

She waved her wand  and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmering in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass. Harry watched lazily as Professor Trelawney began to point out the fascinating angle Mars was making to Neptune. The heavily perfumed fumes washed over him, and the breeze from the window played across his face like soft kisses from Tom’s lips. He could hear an insect humming gently somewhere behind the curtain. His eyelids began to droop. …

They were riding a giant eagle. Harry was relaxing against Tom as they soared through the clear blue sky toward an old, ivy-covered home set high on a hillside. Tom’s arms wrapped around Harry’s stomach, which had a very noticeable bulge, and whispered sweet nothings in his ear about how that house is their new home. Lowe and lower they flew, the wind blowing pleasantly in Harry’s face, until they reached a dark and broken window in the upper story of the house and entered. Tom’s hands tightened around Harry as he found with disappointment that his stomach’s bulge was gone. Now they were flying along a gloomy passageway to a room at the very end …through the door they went, into a dark room whose windows were boarded up. …

Harry felt an intense fury from Tom before nothing. He turned back to find himself alone. Harry had left the owl’s back …he was watching, now, as it fluttered across the room, into a chair with its back to him. …There were two dark shapes on the floor beside the chair … both of them were stirring. …

One was a huge snake barely alive … the other was a man … a short, balding man, a man with watery eyes and a pointed nose … he was wheezing and sobbing on the hearth rug. …

“You are in luck, Wormtail,” said a cold, high-pitched voice from the depths of the chair in which the owl has landed. “You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead.”

“My Lord!” gasped the man on the floor. “My Lord, I am …I am so pleased …and so sorry. …”

“Nagini,” said the cold voice, “you are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all… but never mind, never mind … there is still Harry Potter. …”

The snaked hissed. Harry could see its tongue fluttering but he couldn’t help but smirk. “Stupid husk,” he whispered, his voice disappearing into the air.

“Now Wormtail,” said the husk, “perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you. …”

“My Lord … no… I beg you…”

The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail.

“ _Crucio!_ ” the cold voice said.

Wormtail screamed, screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, the screaming filled Harry’s ears as the scar on his forehead seared with pain; he was yelling too. …The husk would hear him, would know he was there. …

“Harry! _Harry!_ ”

Harry opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor of Professor Trelawney’s room with his hands over his face. His scar was still burning so badly that his eyes were watering. The pain had been real. The whole class was standing around him, and Ron was kneeling next to him, looking terrified.

“You all right?” he said.

“Of course he isn’t!” Professor Trelawney said, looking thoroughly excited. Her great eyes loomed over Harry, gazing at him. “What was it Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?”

“Nothing,” Harry lied. He sat up. He could feel himself shaking. _Tom, Tom_ , he kept thinking. _What was that?_

“I don’t know,” Tom said utterly at a lost. “I never expect that to happen—the husk, the house… Harry as much as I hate to say it I believe right now the best course of action would be to tell the old fool. He would know.”

Harry agreed with Tom and stood up. The class backed away. “I need to go to the hospital wing, I think,” he said. “Bad headache.”

“My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!” Professor Trelawney said. “If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever—“

“I don’t want to see anything except a headache cure,” Harry said heading to the trapdoor and ignoring Professor Trelawney, who was wearing an expression of great frustration, as though she had just been denied a real treat.

When Harry reached the bottom of her stepladder a great pain overwhelmed him from his heart. His vision became dull as black mist surrounded him before forming a solid form of Tom Riddle. “Come on, I am not taking any chances with this,” Tom said grabbing Harry’s hand. Harry leaned on his for support and allowed Tom to talk as they walked. “I have never even believed this was a possibility, I knew that you had a connection with the husk through the Horcruxes, all of the Horcruxes do, but for you to go into its mind, for you to see what it was doing… it’s both scary and interesting at the same time.”

As he talked his hand slipped from Harry’s, reached for Harry’s wand, and flicked it at his old Slytherin robes transfiguring them into Ravenclaw robes; the same House that he told Dumbledore he was in during the Yule Ball. They quickly made their way to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore’s office and Harry said tentatively, “Lemon drop?”

The gargoyle did not move.

“Crystalized pineapple,” Tom tried.

“Pear Drop. Er—Licorice Wand. Fizzing Whizbee. Oh just open, can’t you?” Harry said angrily. “I really need to see him, it’s urgent!”

The gargoyle remained immovable.

Harry moved from Tom’s shoulder and kicked it, achieving nothing but an excruciating pain in his big toe.

“Really?” Tom huffed, “have I taught you nothing?” He took Harry’s wand again just pointed it at the gargoyle. Harry watched as Tom just waved it and the stone statue sprung to life and jumped aside. “Come on,” Tom sighed returning Harry’s wand. He took Harry’s arm in his stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind them, taking them up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.

“Is your foot okay?” Tom whispered.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry said.

“Good,” Tom said bringing Harry’s hand up to kiss it.

They could hear voices from inside the office. “Dumbledore, I’m afraid I don’t see the connection, don’t see it at all!” It was the voice of the Minster of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. “Ludo says Bertha’s perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we’ve no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch’s!”

“And what do you think’s happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?” Mood’s growling voice said.

“I see two possibilities,” Alastor,” Fudge said. “Either Crouch has finally cracked—more than likely, I’m sure you’ll agree, given his personal history—lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere—“

“He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said.

“Can we wrap up this discussion?” Moody growled.

“Yes, yes, let’s go down to the grounds, then,” Fudge said impatiently.

“No, it’s not that,” Moody said, “it’s just that Potter wants a word with you, Dumbledore. He’s just outside the door.”

The door of the office opened.

“Hello, Potter,” Moody said. “Come in, then.”

Harry and Tom walked inside. Moody’s eyes both stared at Tom but said nothing. Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore’s desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat.

“Harry!” he said jovially, moving forward. “How are you!”

“Fine,” Harry lied.

“We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds,” Fudge said. “It was you who found him, was it not?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “But that’s not why we’re here.”

“We… oh, oh yes, hello,” the minister mumbled when he saw Tom holding Harry around the waist, his hand in Harry’s pocket. Harry could feel his wand moving ever so subtly inside it. “Well Harry, we’re about to go for a short walk on the grounds, if you’ll excuse us …perhaps if you just go back to your class—“

“I wanted to talk to you, Professor,” Harry said quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave him a swift, searching look.

“He almost collapse on the way here, he was lucky I was on my way to the loo,” Tom added.

“Wait here, for me, both of you,” Dumbledore said. “Our examination of the grounds will not take long. Oh and Tom, it was Tom wasn’t it? The facilities is just through that door, if you still require it.”

They trooped out in silence past them and closed the door. After a minute or so Harry heard the clunks of Moody’s wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. He looked around.

“Hello Fawkes,” Harry said. Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. The bird gave one look at both Harry and Tom and with a frightening cry flew away from them.

Tom chuckled. “They could sense dark magic better than any wizard Harry,” he explained. “Come, you need to rest.”

Tom led Harry to the nearest chair and sat him down. “What did you do to them?” Harry asked.

“Nothing serious, just the Imperius Curse so they don’t ask for my identity,” Tom said. He moved from Harry to Dumbledore’s desk. “Most likely I will have this body when I get my body back,” he said sitting in Dumbledore’s chair. “With that said it would be nice to actively roam the halls like an actual student instead of hiding out somewhere away from my beloved prince.” He started opening many drawers until he smiled and pulled open a very large, and very old, book. “Here we are. A ledger of all the students who attend Hogwarts. I knew Dumbledore would have one here. … Harry, if you would be so kind?”

Harry’s hand reach into the pocket of his robe and pulled out his wand. Handing it to Tom he looked around and saw a sliver of silver-white shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind them, whose door had not been closed properly. Harry stood up and let Tom wave his wand in complex motions over the ledger mumbling to himself., walked across the office, and pulled open the cabinet door.

A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols that Harry did not recognize. The silvery light was coming from the basin’s contents, which were like nothing Harry had ever seen before. He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly.

“A pensieve,” Tom’s voice said behind Harry causing the boy to jump. He turned around to see Tom looking up from the ledger smiling. “That’s what the thing you are looking at is called, love. A pensieve. It is used to view memories.”

“Memories?” Harry said.

Tom nodded and closed the ledger, replacing it where he found it. “Yes love, memories.” He quickly strode to Harry and looked at the pensieve. “Whatever memory they were looking at must be related to their conversation,” Tom said watching the substance for a moment. He looked at Harry and smiled. “This may not be the information we are looking for, but it may be information nevertheless. Shall we?”

“What?”

“We’re going into the pensieve to watch whatever memory is in here,” Tom said. He tightly gripped Harry’s hand and said, “It’s going to be alright. Just follow my lead.” Tom leaned into the pensieve, Harry following him. The tips of their noses touched the strange substance into which they were staring.

Dumbledore’s office gave an almighty lurch—Harry was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the basin—but he didn’t hit the stone bottom. He was falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool—

And suddenly, Harry found himself sitting on a bench at the end of a room. It was dimly lit, there were no windows only torches in brackets such as the ones that illuminated the walls of Hogwarts. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room, chains encircling the arms of it. Harry looked to this left to see Tom sitting calmly.

“Don’t worry, nobody can see or hear us here,” Tom said. Harry looked to the wizard next to him on the bench and uttered a loud cry of surprise that reverberated around the silent room.

He was sitting next to Dumbledore!

“Harry, look,” Tom said pointing towards the chair in the middle. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and a man entered flanked by dementors. The dementors were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man’s arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint, and Harry couldn’t blame him … he knew the dementors could not touch him inside a memory, but he remembered their power only too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

“Hello Karkaroff,” Tom said watching intently. “This must be the day he betrayed me,” he continued.

Unlike Dumbledore, Karkaroff looked much younger; his hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. Even as Harry watched, the chains on the arms of the chair glowed suddenly gold and snaked their way up Karkaroff’s arms, binding him there.

“This must be a trial,” Tom said. “A wartime trial, I’ve read in great detail about Grindelwald’s trial and even sat in a couple of trials myself thanks to old connections.”

“Connections?” Harry asked looking at Tom confused. Tom just gave a knowing smile and said, “Old Sluggy is useful for something.”

They turned their attention back to the trial as Mr. Crouch, looking fit and alert for once, stood up and said “Igor Karkaroff, you have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us.”

Karkaroff straightened himself as best as he could, tightly bound to the chair.

“I have, sir,” he said, and although his voice was very scared, Harry could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. “I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help—I know that the Ministry is trying to—to round up the last of the Dark Lord’s supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can. …”

Tom’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Karkaroff as the witches and wizards murmured. Then Harry heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore’s other side, a familiar, growling voice saying “Filth.” Harry leaned forward so that he could see past Dumbledore. Mad-Eye Moody was sitting there—except that there was a very noticeable difference in his appearance. He did not have his magical eye, but two normal ones. Both were looking down upon Karkaroff, and both were narrowed in intense dislike.

“You say you have names for us, Karkaroff,” Mr. Crouch said. “Let us hear them, please.”

“You must understand,” Karkaroff said hurriedly, “that He-Who-Must-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy. …He preferred that we—I mean to say, his supporters—and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them—“

“Get on with it,” Moody sneered.

“Yes, get on with it!” Tom said leaning forward with great interest.

“—we never knew the names of every one of our fellows—He alone knew exactly who we all were—“

“Which was a wise move, wasn’t it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in,” Moody muttered.

“Thank you,” Tom said seriously turning to Moody for a moment. He looked at Harry and said, “It is true from the memories of my Horcruxes that I can remember, only I knew the names of all of my followers.”

“—and these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely—“

“These names are?” Mr. Crouch said sharply.

Karkaroff drew a deep breath. Harry just watched Tom, his eyes drawn to the intense interest he took, the calculations that Harry could see going on behind Tom’s dark, sharp eyes. “There was Antonin Dolohov,” Karkaroff said. “I—I saw him torture countless Muggles and—and non-supporters of the Dark Lord.”

“And helped him do it,” Moody murmured.

“We have already apprehended Dolohov,” Crouch said. “He was caught shortly after yourself.”

“Indeed?” Karkaroff said, his eyes widening. “I—I am delighted to hear it!”

But he didn’t look it. Harry could tell that this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names was worthless. “Poor Karkaroff… even then you are pathetic,” Tom muttered.

“Any others?” Crouch said coldly.

“Why, yes … there was Rosier,” Karkaroff said hurriedly. “Evan Rosier.”

“Rosier is dead,” Crouch said. “He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle.”

“Good, I should have killed him,” Tom muttered. “An ineffective person who is more narrow-minded then I ever was.”

“No—no more than Rosier deserved!” Karkaroff said, a real note of panic in his voice now. Harry could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff’s eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting. “This is why I made sure to keep everyone secret,” Tom said still watching Karkaroff with his eagle-like gaze; his arms were on his legs and he had a fist in front of his mouth. “To make my traitors squirm uselessly.”

“There’s more!” Karkaroff said. “There was Travers—he helped murder the McKinnons! Mulciber—he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!”

Harry could tell that, this time, Karkaroff had struck gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring together.

“Rookwood?” Mr. Crouch said, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. “Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?”

“The very same,” Karkaroff said eagerly. Harry could tell that Tom wanted to stand up and yell at him, but instead Tom just stood up gently and walked down the benches through the people who were sitting in them and into the center of the room. He stopped in front of Karkaroff, barely six inches separated the two, and Tom just stood there. “I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information—“

“But Travers and Mulciber we have,” Mr. Crouch said. “Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide—“

“Not yet!” Karkaroff cried, looking quite desperate. “Wait, I have more!”

Tom did not move from his spot as Karkaroff screamed directly into him. Instead he just continued watching the frantic Death Eater.

“Snape! Severus Snape!”

“Snape has been cleared by this council,” Crouch said disdainfully. “He has been couched for by Albus Dumbledore. Since you cannot give any more names, you shall return to Azkaban as I review your case.”

“Wait! There’s one more! One more!” Karkaroff screamed out. “Barty Crouch! Junior.” The room went silent as heads turned to Mr. Crouch.

Mr. Crouch just looked at Karkaroff coldly and said, “You will return to Azkaban in the meantime…”

His voice faded. Harry looked around; the dungeon was dissolving as though it were made of smoke, everything was fading; he could see only his own body and Tom—all else was swirling comfortable darkness.

And then, the dungeon returned, Harry was sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but not to the left side of Mr. Crouch. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. Harry noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite. She had short blonde hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a younger Rita Skeeter.

“An execution!” Tom said rather cheerfully from the center of the room moving towards Harry. “Or a sentence. Whichever it be we will be seeing some of my supporters at their weakest moment.”

“Then let’s hope they look pretty,” Harry said, catching Tom’s cheerfulness.

“I believe they will be,” Tom said. “The weak will get nowhere in life my dear love, and if they do they hide behind their cowardly power.” He sat down next to Harry and turned his focus to the center of the room. The door in the corner opened. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. Harry saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another.

The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. Harry looked at Tom who frowned. “I remember none of them,” he said. Harry looked back at the four chairs and focused on a boy in his late teens who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white.  The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.

Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face. Tom barely gave him a glance as he focused on the four trying to remember their names.

“You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law,” Crouch said clearly, “so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous—“

“Father,” the boy said. “Father please!”

“—that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court,” Crouch said, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son’s voice. “We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror—Frank Longbottom—and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabout of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—“

“Father, I didn’t!” the boy shrieked bellowed. “I didn’t, I swear it! Father, don’t send me back to the dementors—“

“I didn’t, I didn’t, I swear to it! Oh shut it boy!” the woman next to the straw-colored hair boy mocked.

“You are further accused,” bellowed Mr. Crouch, “of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom’s wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury—“

“Mother!” the boy screamed, and the wispy little witch beside Crouch began to sob, rocking backward and forward. “Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me!”

“I now ask the jury,” Mr. Crouch screamed, “to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!”

“Ahh, I remember now,” Tom said turning to Harry as the witches and wizards along the right-hand side of the dungeon raised their hands. The boy began to scream again. “The Lestranges. Rodolphus and Rabastan, brothers, and Bellatrix Lestrange, the wife of Rodolphus. Mad all of them, and powerful. … As for the boy, he is obviously Barty Crouch Jr., son of the man next to you Harry. If I would have known this is how he acted I would have tried to seduce the father instead of letting the son fall for me.”

“What happened to them? What happened to the boy?” Harry asked as the dementors glided back into the room. “I’m your son!” The boy screamed at Crouch. “I’m your son!”

“You are no son of mine!” Mr. Crouch bellowed., his eyes bulging suddenly. “I have no son!”

The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and dumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared to not have noticed as he roared to the dementors, “Take them away! Take them away, and may they rot there!”

“The boy most likely died, he looks weak, vulnerable… but the Lestranges… no, they will not die in Azkaban. They’re too stubborn, too prideful,” Tom said shaking his head. “And dangerous, very dangerous.”

“You are correct, but I think it is time to return to my office,” a quiet voice said in Harry’s ear.

Harry started. He looked around. Then he looked on his other side. There was an Albus Dumbledore looking straight at him.

“Come,” Dumbledore said, and he put his hand under Harry’s and Tom’s elbows. Harry found himself rising into the air; the dungeon dissolved around him; for a moment, all was blackness, and then he felt as though he had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on his feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore’s sunlit office.

“Professor,” Harry gasped. “I know I shouldn’t’ve—I didn’t mean—the cabinet door was sort of open and—“

I quite understand,” Dumbledore said. He lifted the pensieve, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry and Tom to sit opposite him.

“Sir, in the pensieve, we saw Karkaroff’s trial as well as the Lestranges’ and Crouch Jr.,” Tom said as he sat down. “If you do not mind me asking, what was the results of the last trial? What happened to Crouch Jr.?”

“They were all sentenced to Azkaban as you might have seen,” Dumbledore said. “As for Mr. Barty Crouch Jr. … records show that he has died a few years later in his cell.”

“I see…” Tom said thoughtfully.

“So Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Before you got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something.”

“Yes,” Harry said glancing at Tom. “Professor—I was in Divination just now, and—er—I fell asleep.”

He hesitated here, wondering if a reprimand was coming, but Dumbledore merely said, “Quite understandable. Continue.”

“Told you not to take that class,” Tom whispered before Harry continued.

“Well, I had a dream,” Harry said. “A dream about the hu—Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail … you know who Wormtail—“

“I do know,” Dumbledore said promptly. “Please continue.”

“Voldemort got a letter from an owl. He said something like, Wormtail’s blunder had been repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn’t be fed to the snake—there was a snake beside his chair. He said—he said he’d be feeding me to it, instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail—and my scar hurt,” Harry said. “It woke me up, it hurt so badly.”

“Your scar hurt? Harry you didn’t tell me that,” Tom said looking worryingly. Dumbledore merely looked at them.

“Er—yeah… that’s all,” Harry said.

“I see,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I see. Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year?”

“No,” Harry said.

“Professor he hadn’t told me about the scar hurting at all,” Tom said.

“I see,” Dumbledore nodding. He stood up and began walking up and down behind his desk. Every now and then, he placed his wand tip to his temple, removed another shining silver thought, and added it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast that Harry couldn’t make out anything clearly: It was merely a blur of color.

“Professor?” Harry said quietly, after a couple of minutes.

Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. He sat back down at his desk.

“Do you know what Harry’s scar is hurting him?” Tom asked.

“I have a theory, no more than that. …It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred,” Dumbledore said.

“But… why?”

“Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed,” Dumbledore said. “That is no ordinary scar.”

“So you think that the dream actually happened?” Tom asked.

“It is possible,” Dumbledore said. “I would say—probable. Harry—did you see Voldemort?”

“No,” Harry said. “Just the back of his chair.”

“Just the chair?” Dumbledore said.

Neither Dumbledore nor Harry spoke for a while.  Dumbledore was gazing across the room, and every now and then, placing his wand tip to his temple and adding another shining silver thought to the seething mass within the Pensieve. It was Tom who broke the silence. “Professor, would you think that maybe the Dark Lord could be getting stronger? If there is a link between Harry and the Dark Lord, then wouldn’t my boyfriend’s scar hurting be a sign that the Dark Lord’s power is growing? I mean during the Dark Lord’s first rise to fishing there was multiple disappearances. The same can be said of happing right now with Bertha Jorkins, Mr. Crouch, and a muggle named Frank Bryce.”

“How did you know about the third disappearance, if you do not mind me asking,” Dumbledore said.

“I’m a muggleborn so I read both the _Daily Prophet_ as well as _The Telegraph_ ,” Tom said smoothly.

“I see… I too read muggle newspapers,” Dumbledore said.

“So you would agree that these disappearances are linked?” Tom asked.

“I believe so, however the Ministry disagrees—as you may have heard, while waiting outside my office. I must say, you are very knowledgeable of our past Tom, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Tom smiled and said “My mother’s a historian for a local university. I’ve seem to inherit her enthusiasm for history. I’ve read a lot about the First Wizarding War when I heard of it.”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. Harry was surprised that Dumbledore took Tom’s answer so willingly.

“Professor,” Harry said. “The trial you found us in… the one with Crouch’s son? Well… were they talking about Neville’s parents?”

Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look. “Has Neville never told you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?” he said.

Harry shook his head, wondering, as he did so, how he could have failed to ask Neville this, in almost four years of knowing him.

“Yes, they were talking about Neville’s parents,” Dumbledore said. “His father, Frank, was an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort’s whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you heard.”

“The torturers were the Lestranges, as I pointed them out to you Harry,” Tom went on. “Though I would guess that it was mainly Bellatrix Lestrange who did most of the torturing.”

Dumbledore nodded to this as well.

“So they’re dead?” Harry asked.

“No,” Dumbledore said, his voice full of a bitterness Harry had never heard there before. “They are insane. They are both in St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him.”

Harry sat there, horror-struck. He had never known… never, in four years, bothered to find out …”

“They were excellent Aurors, almost as active as your father and mother Harry,” Tom said turning to Harry. “They were very popular and their attack came from after the Dark Lord’s downfall. So you can believe, from what we have seen, that there was a fury to give justice to the Lestranges and Crouch Jr.”

Dumbledore looked at Tom and said “I believe that we have exhausted our time enough for today.”

Harry and Tom nodded and stood up.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said as the boys reached the door. “Please do not speak about Neville’s parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he is ready.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said, turning to go.

“And—“

Harry looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at Harry for a moment, an odd expression on his face,, and then said, “Good luck with the third task.”

Harry and Tom left the office. Dumbledore looked down at the pensieve for a moment before placing it to the side. He opened the drawer and pulled out the ledger of every student who walked the halls in Hogwarts. He couldn’t help but feel that Tom looked familiar for some reason… and their auras… Tom’s was invisible for some reason or another blocked like Moody’s and Harry’s... Dumbledore frowned when he thought of Harry. His aura was completely wrong. There shouldn’t even be a speck of green on there and yet the boy’s body was almost covered in it. Only his heart was golden and even still it was growing dull. Dumbledore worried about what happened to the boy and could it be this Tom’s fault?

Opening the ledger he went to the pages listing students of six years ago. The boy said he was in Ravenclaw… and looks to be a sixth year. Placing a finger under the Ravenclaw heading he slid it down slowly, reading the names aloud mothing them to himself until he reached the end.

_THOMAS EDWARD RIDDLE_

Riddle? “It cannot be… surely this is a coincidence,” Dumbledore muttered to himself. He read the name again and frowned. He needed to speak with Professor Flitwick immediately.

 

“Harry, I need you to go to bed directly,” Tom said. “Act sick, say you need a name, just get into your bed.”

“Why Tom?” Harry asked.

“Because my love, I believe I need to pay a visit with my new Head of House,” Tom said. He kissed Harry lightly and took Harry’s wand. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long my prince… and I don’t want to hurt you as I do this. I will see you later.”

Harry nodded and ran off towards the Gryffindor Tower. Tom stood and watched his beautiful prince leave until he couldn’t see him anymore. He turned on the spot and made his way down a different corridor. “Now, where can I find Flitwick?” he muttered to himself.

Tom walked through the corridors and made sure to have a polite smile as he began climbing down the stairs towards the Great Hall. It should be close enough to dinner for the early arrivals to be there. Walking into the Great Hall he smiled when he saw two Ravenclaw girls sitting and gossiping. “Hello,” he said as he walked towards them., putting his right hand into his pocket. “I am wondering if you can help me with something.”

“Sure… um I don’t think I ever saw you,” said the first girl.

“I like to keep to myself,” Tom said, flicking the wand. “I tend to keep to my dorms unless I’m with my boyfriend, Harry. I’m actually wondering if you two know where Professor Flitwick is. There is something I need to discuss with him about.”

“Of course,” the first girl said smiling showing a little too much teeth. “Professor Flitwick’s office is on the seventh floor, near the West Tower.”

“Thank you,” Tom said. He turned around and began heading out of the Great Hall. He left quickly and proceeded up the Grand Staircase to the seventh floor. He wanted to finish this quickly. On the seventh floor he turned right and followed the corridor using his memory of when he had a body to guide him.

Soon he found himself standing in front of a door that stood slightly ajar. He knocked twice and a small voice squeaked, “Come in!”

Tom did so and saw a short little man sitting by a desk. “Can I help you? Shouldn’t you be at dinner, young man?” he asked.

“Professor Flitwick?” Tom said more of a question.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Tom closed the door behind him and smiled at the short wizard. “I am Tom Edward Riddle, your new student.” Before Flitwick could even question it Tom had Harry’s wand aimed at Flitwick and with a flick of his wand Flitwick’s eyes became glassy. Tom smirked and began to mutter under his breath as he wand-hand moved in complex motions, the tip of Harry’s wand glowing a light blue as a haze began to develop between the two. Tom worked quickly but it was hard creating six years worth of false memories. Twenty minutes Tom spent creating the memories, forcibly adding himself into each and every class Flitwick taught in his new class.  He could feel his own energy and body draining as he continued to work, creating more and more blue haze around his wand and Flitwick’s mind as he slowly absorbed his new memories. Tom was starting to feel weak but he finished his job, thankful for the lie that Harry first created. When he was done, Tom’s legs felt shaky he could already feel his body fading.

He pocketed the wand and watched as the last of the blue haze move into Flitwick’s head, being absorbed by his mind. Flitwick’s eyes lost its glassy look and smiled at Tom. “Hello Mr. Riddle, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Actually I just wanted to thank you for your help,” Tom said. “I will see you later Professor.”

“Alright Tom, goodbye. Oh, and would you try heading out of the dorms for once? I know you like your privacy but still…”

“I’m fine Professor, I get enough socialization,” Tom smiled politely as he left. As soon as the door closed behind him his smile faded as he felt his body fading away more quickly. Hugging his robes tightly to him, Tom ran through the corridors trying to find his way to Gryffindor Tower. He got lost only twice, taking corridors that led only to dead ends until he reached a hallway with a tapestry of a wizard trying to teach trolls how to ballet. Feeling relived to see that tapestry he began to run around the corridors three times before finding a door opposite the tapestry. Opening it, Tom walked through a small corridor that led directly into Harry’s dormitory.

Harry was the only one in the room and Tom couldn’t help but smile when he saw that Harry listened to him and was sleeping. “That’ll lessen the pain he feels,” Tom sighed. He quietly made his way to Harry’s bed and sat on the edge. He fixed Harry’s hair, lightly moving it out of Harry’s eyes and smiled. Such beautiful boy… Tom felt lucky that he could even seduce a beautiful boy like Harry. Bending down he kissed Harry’s forehead lightly. “I’m sorry for the pain you’ll feel, my love,” he whispered. Placing the wand on Harry’s nightstand, Tom allowed his body to fade as a black mist filled the room.

Harry whimpered in pain, giving small gasps as the black mist that was Tom’s body enter into Harry. The mist covered Harry like a hugging, strong force before steeping into his skin, leaving only Harry in the room alone, but no longer in pain.

 

Dumbledore entered Flitwick’s office. “Oh Albus, I didn’t expect you to come visit,” Professor Flitwick said. “I was about to head down to dinner, will you join me?”

“Of course Filius,” Dumbledore said. “But I also would like to talk with you about a student of yours.”

“Who?”

“A Mr. Thomas Riddle,” Dumbledore said as they walked down the corridor.

“Oh yes, a very nice boy he is, very polite and intelligent to boot,” Professor Flitwick said. “A star pupil really. Though I must admit that I do not know him very much, you see Tom barely talks to anybody. He is a very shy boy which is sad because behind that shyness is brilliance.”

Dumbledore frowned but nodded. “I see, well hopefully Mr. Potter will fix that,” he said. How could Flitwick know who Mr. Riddle is? Dumbledore could have sworn that the boy is familiar, there is no way that he could be related to Lord Voldemort, it is impossible. They might share names but…

“Sir, are you preoccupied?” Professor Flitwick asked.

Dumbledore snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry Filius. Shall we head to dinner? Perhaps during so you can remind me of Mr. Riddle’s accomplishments?”

“Certainly Albus, certainly,” Professor Flitwick said and he began a long tale of academic accomplishments that belonged to a Thomas Edward Riddle.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter XVI**

Ron and Hermione were supposed to be studying for their exams, which would finish on the day of the third task, but they were putting most of their efforts into helping Harry prepare.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione said shortly when Harry pointed this out to them and said he didn’t mind practicing on his own for a while, “at least we’ll get top marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. We’d never have found out about all these hexes in class.”

“Good training for when we’re all Aurors,” Ron said excitedly, attempting the Impediment Curse on a wasp that had buzzed into the room and making it stop dead in midair. Harry just nodded and tried to hide his frown. He never really thought about becoming an Auror lately.

The mood in the castle as they entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry was practicing hexes at every available moment as Tom lectured him inside his mind, repeating the importance of this task. “Whatever the husk is planning, it will happen during the third task,”

Sirius was sending daily owls now. Like Hermione, he seemed to want to concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before they concerned themselves with anything else. He reminded Harry in every letter that whatever might be going on outside the walls of Hogwarts was not Harry’s responsibility.

_If Voldemort is really getting stronger again, my priority is to ensure your safety. He cannot hope to lay hands on you while you are under Dumbledore’s protection, but all the same, take no risks: Concentrate on getting through that maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters._

Tom seemed to agree with Sirius in these matters, repeatedly telling Harry to focus solely on the task. Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but Harry appreciated all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione carrying her morning copy of the Daily Prophet as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it.

“What?” Harry and Ron said together.

“Nothing,” Hermione said quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Harry grabbed it. He stared at the headline and anger started to fill him. “Why today?” he said.

He found himself staring at his own picture, beneath the banner headline:

**HARRY POTTER**

**“DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS”**

The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, _writes_ _Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter’s strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School.

Potter, the _Daily Prophet_ can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar of his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your _Daily Prophet_ reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying.

It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potter’s brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by You-Know-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion.

“He might even be pretending,” said one specialist. “This could be a plea for attention.”

The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public.

“Potter can speak Parseltongue,” reveals Daphne Greengrass, a Hogwarts fourth year. “There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind him after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up though. But he’s made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he’d do anything for a bit of power. I mean, look at what he did to Draco.”

Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, had long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than You-Know-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue, “as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers.” Similarly, “anyone who weeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence.”

If we are to add onto the fact of Potter’s supposed homosexuality we can only worry about how his presence will affect the first and second years he surrounds himself with. Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening.

“Gone off me a bit, hasn’t she?” Harry said lightly, folding up the paper.

“Harry,” Tom’s voice said inside him. “What are you thinking?”

 _Not what you were thinking of doing to your supporters_ , Harry thought. _But what I suggested to you._

“My little prince,” Tom said, Harry could hear the smirk in his voice. He looked at Ron and Hermione who were both trying to figure out how Skeeter gotten this information. “Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to be researching magical methods of ‘bugging’ whatever the blazes that is!” Ron said. “You tell me how she did it!”

“I’ve been trying!” Hermione said. “But I…but…”

An odd, dreamy expression suddenly came over Hermione’s face. She slowly raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Hermione said breathlessly. She ran her finger through her hair again, and then held her hand up to her mouth, as though speaking into an invisible walkie-talkie. Harry and Ron stared at each other.

“I’ve had no idea,” Hermione said, gazing into space. “I think I know… because then no one would be able to see…even Moody…and she’d have been able to get onto the window ledge …but she’s not allowed… she’s definitely not allowed….I think we’ve got her! Just give me two seconds in the library—just to make sure!”

“Oi!” Ron yelled as Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall walked up to Harry as Hermione ran off and said, “Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” she said.

“But the task isn’t till tonight!”

“I’m very aware of that Potter, the champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them.”

She moved away. Harry gaped after her.

“She doesn’t expect the Durselys to turn up, does she?” he asked Ron blankly. _I don’t want them to show up, I really don’t._

“Dunno,” Ron said before excusing himself for his exam, Triwizard Champtions were exempt from them, and Harry finished his breakfast in the emptying Great Hall. He watched as Fleur Delacour and Cedric crossed to the side chamber and entered. Krum slouched off to join them shortly afterward. Feeling a sensation of dread, Harry got to his feet and hoped that there would be no one for him, for even no one being there for him would be better than the Dursleys who cared nothing about him.

Cedric and his parents were just inside the door. Viktor Krum was over in a corner, conversating with his dark-haired mother and father in rapid Bulgarian. On the other side of the room, Fleur was jabbering away in French to her mother. Fleur’s little sister Gabrielle, was holding her mother’s hand. She waved at Harry, who waved back, grinning. Then he saw Mrs. Weasley and Bill standing in front of the fireplace, beaming at him.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as he smiled broadly and walked over to them. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“You all right?” Bill said, grinning at Harry and shaking his hand. “Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.”

Fleur Delacour, Harry noticed, was eyeing Bill with great interest over her mother’s shoulder. Harry could tell she had no objections whatsoever to long hair or earrings with fangs on them.

“This is really nice of you,” Harry muttered to Mrs. Weasley.

“Hmm. So, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, “When are we going to meet this boyfriend of yours? The one Ron tells me about and not you?”

“Oh Tom…” Harry blushed. “He’s uh taking exams right now… and he has a very isolated study habit.”

“He does, does he?” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry looked nervously at her not knowing if she was approving or disapproving of Tom. “Then we will see her during lunch,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Ron wrote that he is in Ravenclaw, is that right dear?”

“Yes, he is,” Harry said. “Thomas Riddle, that’s his name.”

“I see… then I will make sure to have a talk with this Riddle as soon as I can. What does his parents do? Do you know?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry heard Tom whisper into his ear as he answered. “They’re professors at a university. Tom’s muggleborn, you see. And these universities they’re like schools for people eighteen up. His mum’s a historian and dad’s an English professor.”

“Oh, that’s nice, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?” Bill said.

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said, and they made their way back toward the door into the Great Hall.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Can you tell me about the boy Ron is dating? I know that he is coming over to stay, poor thing has nowhere else to go, but Ron somehow forgotten to give us a name.”

“Oh,” Harry said awkwardly. He looked to Bill for help, but he just looked at him with the same curious expression Mrs. Weasley had. “Well umm… before I tell you who he is, I need to tell you that I’ve been friends with him since last year… and even though he’d done some mean stuff he’s trying to make up for it, and has multiple times.”

“Harry. Who is my son dating?” Mrs. Weasley said shortly.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry blurted out.

“Oh… “ Mrs. Weasley said. She looked at Harry to see if he was kidding. He gave her a serious expression so she sighed, “Then I just hope he enjoys chores. And a talking from myself and Arthur… and Ron too. I mean I’ve read that nasty Skeeter article about the three of you, horrible things that woman writes, but it just didn’t connect that my son was dating—never mind. That’s in the past now anyways. Come on Harry, you’re supposed to give us a tour, right?”

Harry had a very enjoyable morning walking over the sunny grounds with Bill and Mrs. Weasley, showing them the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship. Mrs. Weasley was intrigued by the Whomping Willow, which had been planted after she had left school, and reminisced at length about the gamekeeper before Hagrid, a man called Ogg. They returned to the castle for lunch.

“Mum—Bill!” Ron said, looking stunned, as he joined the Gryffindor table. “What’re you doing here?”

“Come to watch Harry in the last task!” Mrs. Weasley said brightly. “I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?”

“Oh… okay,” Ron said. “Couldn’t remember all the goblin rebels’ names, so I invented a few. It’s all right,” he said, helping himself to a Cornish pasty, while Mrs. Weasley looked stern, “they’ve all called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the Unclean; it wasn’t hard.”

“I see, and how did your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, do? Did you know?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ron started choking on his Cornish pasty and looked at his mother horrified. “Mum! I—I can explain, Draco’s not—“

“No. Don’t,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Just point him out.”

Scared Ron lifted a shaking hand and pointed to Draco who just sat down at the Slytherin Table. Mrs. Weasley just made a small noise and said, “Makes sure that he knows that he will not be sitting around every day, that he will be doing chores just like the rest of you. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Ron squeaked.

“Good. Harry, your turn,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Where’s yours?”

Harry pretended to look at the Ravenclaw Table. “I don’t see him… he’s most likely in the Library,” he said.

“The library?”

“He’s a N.E.W.T. student,” Harry said, “and he was very stressed about his exams.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at him, but he was saved a further explanation by the arrival of Fred, George, and Ginny who came to sit next to them. Harry felt almost as though he were back at the Burrow; he had forgotten to worry about this evening’s task. Harry, Mrs. Weasley, and Bill whiled away the afternoon with a long walk around the castle, and then returned to the Great Hall for the evening feast.

“I don’t see him again,” Harry frowned as he sat down. “God I hope he’s alright.”

“He better be at the task,” Mrs. Weasley said a bit stiffly. “He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if he isn’t there supporting you, now would he?”

Near the end of the feast Dumbledore rose to his feet at the staff table and silence fell. “Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes’ time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table were applauding him; the Weasleys and Hermione all wished him good luck, and he headed off out of the Great Hall with Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor.

“This is it Harry,” Tom said excitedly. “Everything we’ve planned for, everything we’ve trained and practice for lead up to tonight. I can already feel my body Harry we are so close. Now, if I know the husk then I know that he’ll have bewitched the Triwizard Cup that’ll be in the maze. You need to reach that Cup Harry. From then, we’ll just make sure that I am the only who resurrect.” Harry nodded and patted the diary in his pocket. He couldn’t help but feel nervously excited. It was all going to end tonight.

They walked onto the Quidditch field, which was now completely unrecognizable. A twenty-high hedge ran all the way around the edge of it. There was a gap right in front of them: the entrance to the vast maze. The passage beyond it looked dark and creepy.

Five minutes later, the stands had begun to fill; the air was full of excited voices that the rumbling of feet as the hundreds of students filed into the seats. The sky was a deep, clear blue now, and the first stars were starting to appear. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick came walking into the stadium and approached Bagman and the champions. They were wearing large, red, luminous stars on their hats, all except Hagrid who had his on the back of his moleskin vest.

“We are going to be patrolling the outside of the maze,” Professor McGonagall said to the champions. “If you get into difficulty, and wish to be rescued, send red sparks into the air, and one of us will come and get you, do you understand?”

The champions nodded.

“Off you go, then!” Bagman said happily to the four patrollers. He turned to address the crowd and as he did so, Harry had a quick word with Tom.

 _Tom, what do you think the husk will have waiting for us?_ He thought.

“I cannot say but whatever it is, we can easily overpower him,” Tom said in his mind. “You have no need to worry Harry. You are the Dark Prince, and I am the true Dark Lord. What does the husk have? A whimpering, sniveling servant named Wormtail.”

_What are we going to do with him?_

“The sniveling Wormtail? Don’t worry Harry, I have plans for him,” Tom said, Harry imagined him smirking. “For now you need to focus on the task ahead: A maze filled with challenges. But don’t worry, I will be here with you.”

“So… so on my whistle, Harry and Cedric?” Bagman said. “Three—two—one—“

He gave a short blast on his whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Harry felt almost as though he was underwater again. He pulled out his wand, muttered “ _Lumos_ ” and heard Cedric do the same.

After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other.

“See you,” Harry said, and he took the left one, while Cedric took the right.

Harry heard Bagman’s whistle for the second time. Krum had entered the maze. Harry sped up. His chosen path seemed completely deserted. He turned right, and hurried on, holding his wand high over his head, trying to see as far ahead as possible. Still, there was nothing in sight.

Bagman’s whistle blew in the distance for the third time. All of the champions were now inside.

Harry turned a right and it was empty too. And when Harry reached another right turn and took it, he again found his way unblocked. Harry didn’t know why, but the lack of obstacles was unnerving him. Surely he should have met something by now? It felt as though the maze were luring him into a false sense of security. “The traitor,” Tom said in Harry’s head. “Whoever entered you into the tournament in the first place must be helping us here.”

Harry heard movement right behind him. He held out his wand, ready to attack, but its beam fell upon Cedric, who had just hurried out of a path on the right-hand side. Cedric looked severely shaken. The sleeves of his robe was smoking and his shirt was torn to pieces revealing tight muscles.

“Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts!” he hissed. “They’re enormous—I only just got away!”

He shook his head and dived out of sight, along another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between himself and the skrewts, Harry hurried off again. Then, as he turned a corner, he saw… a dementor gliding toward him. Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, it advanced sensing its way blindly toward him. Harry summoned the happiest memory of himself and Tom, raised his wand, and cried, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A silver snake erupted from the end of Harry’s wand and galloped toward the dementor, which fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes. …Harry had never seen a dementor stumble.

“Hang on! You’re a boggart!” Harry said. “ _Riddikulus!_ ”

There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver snake faded from sight. Harry made a note to talk to Tom about that later, wondering when his stag turned into a snake. But he moved quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, his wand held high once more.

Left… right… left again… Twice he found himself facing dead ends. He did the Four-Point Spell again and found that he was going too far east. He turned back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist floating ahead of him.

“Limbo mist,” Tom said to Harry. “It reverses the effect of gravity so instead of being pulled down to the ground, you’ll be forced into the air.”

“How do we get through it?” Harry said out loud.

“There’s a counter-charm,” Tom said, “but the quickest way would be to just walk through it. You’ll feel as though you will be stuck onto ground and will fall into the sky at any second, but you won’t.

“Just walk through? Are you mad?” Harry argued.

“Do it Potter! We must reach the cup before anyone else or our plans will be ruined!” Tom yelled.

Gathering his energy Harry just closed his eyes and ran into the golden mist. The world turned upside down. Harry was hanging from the ground, with his hair on end, his glasses dangling off his nose, threatening to fall into the bottomless sky. He clutched them to the end of his nose and just stared at his feet and closed his eyes. He pulled his right foot as hard as he could away from the grassy ceiling.

Immediately, the world righted itself. Harry fell forward but continued running. He met nothing for ten minutes, but kept running into dead ends. Twice he took the same wrong turning. Finally, he found a new route and started to job along it, his wandlight waving, making his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls. Then he rounded another corner and found himself facing a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

Cedric was right—it was enormous. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Harry’s wand, which he pointed at it.

“We don’t have time!” Tom yelled in a nervous, anxious voice that Harry never heard before.

“ _Impendimenta!_ ” Harry yelled as the skrewt raised itself, revealing it’s fleshy, shell-less underbelly. The beast froze in its spot unable to move. Harry aimed at the same spot again and sneered, “ _Severo!_ ” Deep cuts and lashes appeared on the underbelly of the beast; guts and blood spilled pooling at the ground underneath as the skrewt was forced to stay in place as it slowly died.

Harry didn’t stay to watch the results as he turn and ran the opposite way and taking a new path. He had been hurrying along the new path for a few minutes when he heard something in the path running parallel to his own that made him stop dead.

“What are you doing?” Cedric’s voice yelled. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

And then Harry heard Krum’s voice.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

The air was suddenly full of Cedric’s yelles. Horrified Harry aimed his wand at the bushes and yelled out “ _Severo!_ ” The Dark spell was somehow enough to cause a small hole in the tall hedges that Harry scrambled to force himself through, tearing his robes during the process. He looked to his right, saw Cedric jerking and twitching on the ground, Krum standing over him.

Harry pulled himself up and pointed his wand at Krum just as Krum looked up. “ _Stupefy!_ ” Harry yelled.

Krum’s body slumped to the ground next to Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face.

“Are you alright?” Harry said roughly when he got near him, grabbing Cedric’s arm.

“Yeah… Yeah… I don’t believe it … he crept behind me. …I heard him, I turned around, and he had his wand on me…” Cedric panted.

Cedric got up with Harry’s help and looked down at Krum. “Should we leave him?”

“No,” Harry said. “I reckon we should send up red sparks. Someone’ll come and collect him.”

“Did you hear Fleur screaming?” Cedric asked.

“No, think she’s out too?” Harry asked.

“Looks like it,” Cedric said. They looked down at Krum and Cedric couldn’t help but grin. “Looks like a Hogwart’s victory, eh?”

“I guess so,” Harry said looking up at Cedric. Cedric raised his wand and shot a shower of red sparks into the air, which hovered high above Krum, marking the spot where he lay. “Come on!” Cedric said running off.

Harry followed him. They ran together until they’ve reached a fork where they’ve split up again each boy taking a different way.

“Harry if that cup is involved in the husk’s plan you must not let that boy touch it!” Tom said as Harry ran down a long, straight path. Harry saw movement once again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary creature, one which he had only seen in picture form in his _Monster Book of Monsters_.

It was a sphinx. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon Harry as he approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke, in a deep, hoarse voice, “You are very near your goal. The quickest way is past me.”

“So… how do I get past you?” Harry asked politely.

“Answer my riddle on your first guess. Guess wrongly, and I attack. Remain silent, I will let you walk away,” the sphinx said.

Harry’s stomach slipped several notches. It was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him. He weighted his chances and Tom said, “Ask her for the riddle. Of course I will help you.”

“Can I hear the riddle?” Harry asked the sphinx.

The sphinx sat down upon her hind legs, in the very middle of the path, and recited:

_“First think of the person who lives in disguise,_

_Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies._

_Next tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,_

_The middle of middle and end of the end?_

_And finally give me the sound often heard_

_During the search for a hard-to-find word._

_Now string them together, and answer me this,_

_Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”_

Harry cast his mind around. There were plenty of animals he wouldn’t want to kiss; his immediate thought was a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but something told him that wasn’t the answer. He could feel Tom thinking for a moment as well before Tom’s voice whispering, “Spider Harry, the answer is Spider.”

“Spider,” Harry said to the sphinx. The sphinx smiled broadly. She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside from him to pass.

“Thanks!” Harry said, and, thankful for Tom’s brilliance, dashed forward. “At this rate, we’ll definitely reach the cup before Cedric,” Harry panted as he ran.

He had to be close now, he had to be. …His wand was telling him he was bang on course; as long as he didn’t meet anything too horrible, he might have a chance. …

Harry had a choice of paths up ahead. “Point Me!” he yelled to his wand, and it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and saw light ahead.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him.

Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup. “Harry! Run!” Tom yelled in his mind. “Hurry or that boy will die!”

Harry screamed as he ran his adrenaline and energy surging in his legs as he gained speed. Cedric looked back behind his shoulder and gave a cocky smirk when he saw Harry. “Come on Harry! Race to the Cup!” he yelled out.

“Cedric!” Harry yelled. His legs felt as if they were on fire, like lava was pouring into his veins as he ran. Without realizing what he was doing, Harry whipped his wand and soon found himself flying in the air, hovering only a foot on top of the ground, and going faster than he could ever run across towards the cup, gliding.

Harry came neck to neck with Cedric who glanced at him. “Oh you cheat!” Cedric laughed before trying to run faster.

“Harry! Go faster or the boy will die!” Tom yelled again.

“I don’t know what I’m doing!” Harry yelled out loud as he continued to glide towards the Triwizard Cup. Black smoke appeared around his feet for a second before he found himself descending ever so slowly. “No!” Harry yelled as he comically ran in the air. When he fell to the floor he stumbled and rolled into the hedges which lashed out against Harry, a particularly sharp and thick branch slicking Harry’s leg.

“Harry!” Cedric yelled stopping before him. “Are you hurt?”

Harry yelled in pain, and looked down at his leg which was now smeared with dirt and dark blood. “I can’t… I can’t…” Harry breathed. “Tom I’m sorry…”

“Harry, let me help you,” Cedric said. Harry’s leg was shaking badly and did not want to support his weight. He was forced to lean on Cedric as the older boy held him tight.

“Harry!” Tom yelled in his mind, his voice now frantic. “The plan! The boy is in danger! Do not let him touch that cup!”

Harry was gasping for breath. “Tom…Tom…”

“Tom? Is that the name of your boyfriend?” Cedric asked.

Harry just nodded. He failed. He was so close and now he failed. He looked down at his leg which was bleeding freely.

“Come on,” Cedric smiled. “We’re almost there and it’s a Hogwarts win either way.”

“What are you doing?” Harry said as Cedric began walking with him towards the cup.

“Walking us to the cup,” Cedric smiled honestly. “I’m not going to win because a hedge decided to tear your leg in two. Come on, we’ll grab it together. We both win, and then you can get your leg fix and see your boyfriend Tom.”

“Tom… can’t, need to get to the Cup,” Harry muttered as he tried to walk by himself but failed, falling onto Cedric’s chest. Cedric chuckled and said, “Come on Harry we’ll do this together.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“Because you helped me and done things I should have done, such as trying to rescue all of the hostages,” Cedric smiled softly. They continued to slowly made their way to the Cup. “Besides, it’s the right thing to do Harry.”

“Don’t understand,” Harry said his words slurring slightly. He started to get a headache and looked down at his wound. “Stop… need to stop… the bleeding.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cedric said. He wrapped an arm tight around Harry’s waist and pointed his wand at the wound with the other hand. “I’m not as good as Madam Pomfrey, but I’ll try. _Tergeo!_ ” The blood and muck that stuck on Harry’s leg was cleansed away. “ _Episkey Maxima!_ ” Harry felt a hot sensation on his leg and looked down to see the wound struggle to close itself. The bleeding stopped but the wound remained, clots of dry blood already filling it. Harry tried to put his full weight on the leg but failed, falling onto Cedric again.

“I’m not a very good healer yet, but I will be,” Cedric said as he pocketed his wand and kept his arm around Harry’s waist. He threw Harry’s arm around his shoulder and continued walking. “A Healer, that’s what I’m going to be when I graduate. Dad wanted me to be a professional Quidditch player, but I don’t see that as being a long career.” Cedric chuckled and looked down at Harry. “I’m already in my N.E.W.T. classes that I need to become a Healer, and I’m already brilliant at them, just need to keep on going.” Cedric grunted as he pulled Harry closer to him.

They were now only ten feet from the Cup. Tom had went silent, too full of anxiety and nervousness to scream at Harry to get the cup first. Cedric smiled at Harry whose strength was slowly returning to his leg. “You’re a good one, I think,” Harry grunted. “But why help me?”

“Like I said it’s the right thing to do Harry,” Cedric smiled. “Besides, what kind of person would I be if I let a friend lose because he was critically harmed?”

“A friend?” Harry said stopping. They were four feet from the Cup.

“Yeah,” Cedric said. “Don’t you think I’m your friend, Harry?”

Harry looked up at him. Cedric looked so honest, so humble that Harry couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah… yeah I do. We’re friends.”

“Brilliant,” Cedric smiled. He looked away from Harry and muttered, “At least I have that. …”

They were two feet away from the cup. Either one of them could easily reach out and grab it. Harry could snatch the cup before Cedric, he could save his friend before he even touched the cup. He had to.

Harry reached out towards a handle. So close, it was so close. Years of planning, years of hoping all boiling down to this one moment. On the other side of this Cup is the husk, and Tom and Harry were ready to use it. All Harry had to do was reach the handle first. Cedric saw Harry reaching for the handle and his hand moved as well, matching Harry’s speed as he reached for the other handle. _No!_ Harry thought. _Cedric please don’t touch the Cup! You’ll die!_ Only inches until the cup and Harry’s hand started to curl. He grasped the handle. But so did Cedric.

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter XVII**

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head. “Where are we?” he said, more asking Tom than Cedric.

Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles—perhaps hundreds of miles—for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry. “Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?” he asked.

“Cedric you’re in danger,” Harry said, his eyes looking around frantically. The husk is here, it has to be. Somewhere around here. “I don’t have time to explain, just take your wand out.”

“Wands will not protect against the Killing Curse,” Tom warned. “The Dark Arts are an expansive subject but even they cannot undo death!”

The two pulled their wands out. Harry kept looking around him, looking for any indication for the husk. Harry heard a slithering noise and looked out in the distance. A large snake was moving slowly, weakly, coiling itself around a headstone before falling limp and unmoving. Harry walked towards the headstone cautiously and pointed his wand towards it, in case the snake decided to strike. In the darkness Harry was barely able to read the tombstone but his heart sank as he did so.

**TOM RIDDLE**

“Someone’s coming,” Harry said suddenly.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn’t make out a face, but from the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying something. Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And—several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time—Harry saw that the thing in the person’s arms looked like a baby. “The husk,” Harry whispered to himself. He looked at Cedric and wanted to scream a warning at them. But instead Cedric just lowered his wand with a quizzical look.

Without warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. IT was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his knee buckled as he tightened his grip on his wand; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.

“Harry! Get up and save Diggory!” Tom yelled in his mind.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, “ _Kill the spare._ ”

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

“NO!” A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyes as he opened them. He felt his own control over his body slipping as he pointed his wand and snarled. A powerful blast launched from his wand towards the Killing Curse as it raced towards Cedric. He heard something heavy fall to the ground beside him; the pain in his scar reached such a pitch that he retched, and it disappeared entirely. Harry was scared to see.

Cedric was laying against a tombstone, his head resting at an uncomfortable angle. For a second that contained an eternity, Harry stared into Cedric’s face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth, which looked slightly surprised. And then, but before Harry’s mind had accepted what he was seeing, before he could feel anything but numb disbelief, he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was dragging Harry back towards the headstone he was looking at earlier.

“Focus Harry! Focus!” Tom yelled in his mind. “The boy is dying. Yes dying—not dead but dying. We need to move fast! Overpower Wormtail!”

Harry struggled to move his wand and aimed it at Wormtail. “ _Crucio!_ ” he choked angrily. The short man screamed in surprise as he dropped Harry and wither in agony. Harry struggled to stand to his feet, his wand pointed always at Wormtail as the tiny man screamed and shook in immense pain, his hands clenching and unclenching, dropping the wand he was holding during the process.

“There should be a stone cauldron here,” Tom whispered in Harry’s ear. “Make him fetch it.”

Harry nodded and stopped the spell. He bent quickly and snatched the wand Wormtail dropped and felt a surge of power rush through him at the touch of it. Deep inside him Tom smiled. “ _Imperio!_ ” Harry said pointing both wands at Wormtail. The short man’s eyes went hazy and he stood up despite the uncontrollable twitching he had and turned without a word to fetch the stone cauldron.

“Go to Cedric with both wands. Point them both at his heart and say ‘ _Immopulsatio._ ’ Now!” Tom said with a commanding tone that demanded action. Harry scrambled towards Cedric’s body and pulled him away from the tombstone. “ _Immopulsatio!_ ” he yelled pointing both wands at Cedric’s heart. Cedric’s skin immediately lost color turning paler and paler until it reached an icy-blue like color. Harry began to panic.

“His pulse is frozen, this will save him Harry do not worry. We’ve given us time. An hour at most if I can guess, but he needs medical attention,” Tom said.

“What happened?”

“The blast I created when I took over your body was able to cancel out the Killing Curse creating a sort of violent force. I am so sorry for taking over without asking Harry, but I needed to save him,” Tom said.

“It’s okay…” Harry said. “I forgive you… thank you, for saving him.”

“You can thank me once I have my body back,” Tom said. “Now when you go back you will need to perform the counter spell: _Movpulsatio._ ”

Wormtail’s fast, wheezy breathing was growing loud. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within Harry’s range of vision, and Harry saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what sounded like water and it was larger than any cauldron Harry had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

Harry pointed his wand at the bottom of the cauldron and a great fire erupted beneath it. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail as he bent to tend the fire.

 _“Harry!”_ said a cold voice. _“What do you think you’re doing?”_

Harry walked to the bundle and pushed open the robes on the ground, revealing what was inside them. It had the shape of a crouched human child, except that Harry had never seen anything less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face—no child alive ever had a face like that—flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

Harry smirked down at the creature. A dark chuckle started in his throat as he stared at it which quickly grew to a full-on victorious laugh as he picked the creature up. The creature looked at Harry and instead of fear what appeared to be a smirk appeared as it said, _“Well Harry, look at how much you’ve grown. I can feel it, the Dark Magic inside you. …When did Dumbledore’s savior become so entrenched with the Dark Arts?”_

The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks now. It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Harry said coldly before throwing the husk into the cauldron. He reached inside his robes and pulled out the old black diary that started the entire journal. Lifting it to his lips he kissed it before gently letting the Horcrux sink into the cauldron with the husk. Harry turned again to Wormtail and pointed both wand at the man. “Complete the ritual,” he demanded. He was only somewhat aware that his glasses were changing and forming a mask that covered the top half of his face.

Wormtail’s weak, pale face shook with terror. His voice shook, frightened beyond his wits, _“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”_

Harry raised his wand. The surface of the grave cracked and a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Harry’s command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all direction and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

_“Flesh—of the servant—w-willing given—you will—revive—your master.”_

He stretched his right hand out in front of him—the hand with the missing finger. He gripped the dagger very tightly in his left hand and swung it upward. Harry watched intensely as Wormtail brought the blade down. The scream pierced the night and Harry watched as the hand fall to the ground. There was a sickening splash and the potion had turned a burning red.

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. He tried to crawl to Harry, the silver dagger in one hand and his bloodied, bleeding stump pressed against his chest. _“Blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe…”_ Wormtail panted.

Harry walked up to the pathetic man and kicked the dagger out of his hand. Harry bent down and picked the silver dagger up and walked towards the cauldron. “We don’t like that,” he muttered. Harry held out his right arm and braced himself for the pain that’ll come. _“Blood of the lover openly given, you will resurrect your equal!”_ He pressed the point of the silver dagger against the crook of his right arm and penetrated, blood seeping down the sleeve of his torn robes. Harry grunted in pain, his teeth gnashing against each other to a point that Harry might break them as blood dribbled into the cauldron. Harry kept his arm rigid until the liquid within the cauldron turned, instantly, a blinding white.

Wormtail laid against the gravestone cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing. Harry felt that he couldn’t move his arm. The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. The sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, covering Harry and obliterating everything in front of Harry so that he couldn’t see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air.

But then he felt a hand grabbing his arm and through the mist he saw the outline of a man. He was a healthy shape with the hinting of muscles; tall and strong the man stood looking only a couple of years older than Harry.

Harry felt a warm sensation on his arm and looked down to see that his wound was completely healed! Harry looked up from his wound and smiled brilliantly as the mist disappeared and the naked body of Tom stood in front of him. In that moment Harry felt totally enamored at the vision of power and beauty in front of him. “Harry,” Tom commanded, “help me out of this cauldron.”

Fully naked Tom stepped out of the cauldron and looked down at Harry. Wormtail meanwhile whimpered in fear leaning on the tombstone. “Now I can take you properly,” Tom promised as he pulled Harry to him, kissing him deeply. Harry melted in the kiss, submitting himself again to Tom fully as he wrapped his arms around his beloved Dark Lord. Both moaned in the kiss as the Dark Lord brought his prince towards him. They stopped only when the sounds of Womtail’s sniveling cries reached their ears.

Tom turned to Wormtail who pushed back onto the tombstone. “M-Master?” he said.

“Master? You dare to call me master?” Tom said, his voice cold and merciless. “The Lord Voldemort you know is gone, replaced by a stronger and better version that now stands in front of you.”

“My Lord!” Wormtail cried out, trying to throw himself at Tom’s feet. “Oh Master… you promised….”

Tom glared down at Wormtail and turned to Harry. “My prince, if you will give me my wand?”

“Of course,” Harry said. He gave Tom his wand, which the Dark Lord aimed at Wormtail. “Robe me,” he demanded.

Harry stepped back and watched as Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master’s head. “Give me your arm,” Tom said.

“Oh Master…. Thank you, Master…”

He extended the bleeding stump, but Tom laughed. “The other arm, Wormtail.”

“Master, please… _please…_ ”

Tom bent down and pulled out Wormtail’s left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail’s robes up past his elbow, and Harry saw something upon the skin there, something like a vivid red tattoo—a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth—the image that had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup: the Dark Mark.

“This, my heir, is something that will never be placed on you,” Tom said as he examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping.

“It is black,” Tom said softly, “they will all have noticed it… and now we shall see who is still loyal.” He looked at Harry and asked, “Your scar. Does it still hurt?”

“No, it does not,” Harry said.

“Interesting… perhaps only the husk could hurt it. For now, we will see how many are brave enough to come back,” Tom said. He pressed his forefinger to the brand on Wormtail’s arm. Wormtail gave a fresh howl; Tom removed his fingers from Wormtail’s mark, and Harry saw that it had turned jet black.

“The pain makes sure that they all notice,” the Dark Lord explained. “Come, my prince, stand at my side.”

Harry walked towards Tom’s side and looked down at Wormtail. “He knows who I am,” he reminded Tom.

“Yes, but he will not speak, will you Wormtail?” Tom asked looked down at the short man who whimpered and shook his head furiously. They waited a minute. “Do you see that house upon the hillside, Harry? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. …He didn’t like magic, my father. …He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Harry, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage …but I vowed to find him …I revenged myself upon him, that fool who dared to ruin my name. …And now his house empty waiting for its true master to return, and transform it into a manor fit for a Dark Lord and his prince.”

Harry smiled behind his mask and looked at his Dark Lord. “They’re here,” he said as the air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward… slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. The Dark Lord and Dark Prince stood in silence, waiting for them. Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward the Dark Lord, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

“Master… Master…” he muttered.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry, Tom, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people. Tom, however, did not seem to expect more. He looked around at the hooded faces, and though there was no wind, a rustling seemed to run around the circle as though it had shivered.

“Unmask them, my prince,” the Dark Lord demanded.

Harry nodded and took out his wand. He walked towards the nearest Death Eater and waved his wand in front of him, his mask disappearing into black vapors and revealing the face of a man. “My Lord… who is this child?” the man asked, insulted.

“A boy more loyal and powerful than the group of wizards I see before me,” Tom sneered. “Thirteen years Avery, last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. …We are still untied under the Dark Mark, or are we? I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact—such prompt appearances!—and I ask myself… why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?”

No one spoke. No one moved except Harry was he continued to make his way around the circle slowly unmasking each and every Death Eater.

“It is disappointing to think that after years of waiting, this lone boy accomplished what all of you were too scared to do in two years,” The Dark Lord continued. “He, the heir to my power and only a mere boy is responsible for tonight while you all fled away in cowardice.”

“M-My Lord,” Wormtail wheezed. “I—I did not run. I found you… in Albania… I—I brought you here—did the potion… I served you willingly all year until that boy dropped something!”

The Dark Lord’s eyes turned red and narrowed as he stared at Wormtail. “You. You came to me in fear. You decided to help a weaker version of myself, an inferior version who could not even kill Albus Dumbledore. In that decision you have betrayed me, your true Lord, and tried to kill my apprentice. If you think I should forgive you after what you have done to myself and my apprentice, then you are wrong. You have shown no loyalty Wormtail, only foolish weakness; and I have no place for weakness. That said, am I not a forgiving Master? I will atone your mistakes, but only if my apprentice condones it so.”

The Dark Lord looked up to Harry. The Death Eaters all stared at Harry, unsure of what he will do. Wormtail turned to grovel at his feet. Harry stared at the man and an intense hatred grew inside him. This was the man who betrayed his parents, a man who is the reason why his godfather was forced to Azkaban for a crime he didn’t commit; who is the reason why he had to live through an abusive childhood with the Dursleys, suffer through the punches and near-death experiences Dudley put him through. Harry’s eyes grew a cold green the longer he stared at Wormtail, his need to see the man suffer, to see the man die growing with each second. He looked from Wormtail to Tom. Their eyes met and Harry said, “Kill him.”

Voldemort smirked proudly and without even looking at Wormtail said, “ _Avada Kadavra!_ ” The short man didn’t even have time to beg or whimper for his life as the Killing Curse hit him, forcing his body with such force to fling across the ground and at the feet of several Death Eaters, his dead empty eyes staring up at them.

“It seems that my apprentice is less forgiving,” Voldemort smirked. “A fitting attitude for the one who killed the Malfoys.”

The Death Eaters all stared at Harry with fear. Harry ignored it and bottled his emotions at the mentions of Draco’s parents. Hiding them behind a wall he turned to Tom and joined him at his side. The Dark Lord placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and they examined the Death Eaters as they all stare at Wormtail’s body. With a flick of his wand, Tom transfigured the body into a bone which he buried in his father’s grave.

“Now, I believe the Dark Prince will decide your fates as well,” Tom said. “Should these cowards suffer the same fate as Wormtail? Or will we spare them their lives?”

Harry forced the bile that rose in his throat back into his stomach, thankful that Tom removed the dead body of Wormtail, and said “I told you before, my Lord. They won’t die… but they will not receive mercy.”

Tom smirked and looked out at the Death Eaters. “You are too kind, for I would have simply killed you all. Thank your prince.”

The Death Eaters shook in fear before saying, very hesitantly, “T-Thank you… my Prince.”

Tom smirked and turned to Harry. “Time is nearly up. Go, take the boy and go. Play your part in front of the fool Dumbledore, make him believe of what you have witnessed. I will be with you shortly after I deal with our… old followers.”

Harry nodded and walked towards Cedric’s body. The circle of Death Eaters parted as he walked by. As soon as he back was to the circle of Death Eaters screamed erupted the night sky as Tom began their punishment. Harry’s mask faded away and he felt the bile returning to his throat. He slumped in front of Cedric’s body and whispered, “I’m so sorry Cedric.” He grabbed Cedric’s body tightly in one hand and reached for the cup with the other. He felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked—it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him. …They were going back.

Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground; his face was pressed into grass, the smell of it filled his nostrils. He had closed his eyes while the Portkey transported him, and kept them closed. He did not move. All the breath seemed to have been knocked out of him; his head was swimming so badly he felt as though the ground beneath him were swaying like the deck of a ship. To hold himself steady, he tightened his hold on the two things he was still clutching; the smooth, cold handle of the Triwizard Cup and Cedric’s body.

A torrent of sound deafened and confused him; there were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams. …He remained where he was, his face screwed up against the noise, as though it were a nightmare that would pass. …

Then a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over.

“Harry! Harry!”

He opened his eyes.

He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouching over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer; Harry felt the ground beneath his head reverberating with their footsteps.

“He’s back,” Harry whispered. “He’s back. Voldemort.”

“What’s going on? What happened?”

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry; it looked white, appalled.

“My God—Diggory!” it whispered. “Dumbledore—he’s dead!”

The words were repeated, the shadowy figures pressing in on them gasped it to those around them…and then others shouted it—screeched it—into the night—“He’s dead! “ He’s dead!” “Cedric Diggory! Dead!”

“He’s not dead!” Harry cried out. “He needs help—not dead!”

“Harry, you can’t help him now. It’s over. Let go,” Dumbledore said.

Harry held on tighter. ‘No! You don’t understand he’s not dead!” Harry cried out. He felt fingers trying to pry him from Cedric’s limp body, but Harry wouldn’t let go. He needed to undo the spell that Tom had him cast on Cedric’s heart but he didn’t know how!

He heard a voice yelling and a strong force pushed Harry from Cedric’s body. “Out of my way boy!” Mr. Diggory cried out. “Cedric! Cedric!” He cried, clutching Cedric’s body close to him, rocking.

“He’s not dead! I froze his heart—he needs help!” Harry yelled out.

“Will someone shut that boy up?” Mr. Diggory cried. “My boy is gone and he is spouting nonsense!”

Dumbledore bent down, and with extraordinary strength for a man so old and thin, raised Harry from the ground and set him on his feet. Harry swayed. His head was pounding. His injured leg would no longer support his weight. The crowd around them jostled, fighting to get closer, pressing darkly in on him—“What happened?” “What’s wrong with him? “Diggory’s dead!”

“He’ll need to go to the hospital wing!” Fudge was saying loudly. “He’s ill, he’s injured.”

“You can still save Diggory,” Harry insisted trying to get to the body. He needed to reverse the spell. Then they’ll see. “He’s dying but you can save him!”

“Get that fag out of here!” Mr. Diggory yelled out angrily.

“Don’t you dare call Harry that, Amos!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice yelled out. Harry felt hands on him and he struggled against them. Lifting his wand as best he could, he aimed at Cedric and yelled out, “ _Movpulsatio!_ ”

Color returned very lightly back to Cedric’s skin. But nobody noticed. “Get that boy out of here!” Fudge yelled.

Girls were screaming, sobbing hysterically. …The scene flickered oddly before Harry’s eyes. “he needs help!” Harry yelled again. “He’s not dead!”

“Shut that fag up!” Mr. Diggory yelled again holding his son tightly, his eyes too full of tears and hate to see his own son barely moving, barely breathing.

“You’re killing him!” Harry yelled. He broke the grip of whoever was holding him and ran towards Mr. Diggory. The man stared shocked as Harry charged him. He was almost there, he could save Cedric, when someone stopped him.

“It’s all right, son, I’ve got you…come on …hospital wing…”

Someone larger and stronger than he was was half pulling, half carrying him through the frightened crowd. Harry heard people gasping, screaming, and shouting as the man supporting him pushed a path through them, taking him back to the castle. Across the lawn, past the lake and the Durmstrang ship. Harry heard nothing but the heavy breathing of the man helping him walk.

“What happened, Harry?” the man asked at last as he lifted Harry up the stone steps. _Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._ It was Mad-Eye Moody.

“Cedric’s alive, he needs help,” Harry insisted.

“What happened, Harry?” Moody asked again.

“Cedric—“

“Tell me what happened and I will help Diggory,” Moody said.

“Cup was a Portkey,” Harry said. “Took me and Cedric to a graveyard… and Voldemort was there. …Tried to kill Cedric, but I saved him… he’s dying now, don’t have much time.”

“What did the Dark Lord do?” Moody asked.

“Made a potion… got his body back. …”

“The Dark Lord got his body back? He’s returned?”

“And the Death Eaters came…” _Tom,_ Harry thought desperately, _Tom come back! They don’t believe me—he’s going to die! Tom! Tom!_

“Got away… somehow got away…”

“In here, Harry …in here, and sit down. …You’ll be all right now ….drink this…”

Harry heard a key scrape in a lock and felt a cup being pushed into his hands. “Drink it… you’ll feel better …come on, now, Harry. I need to know exactly what happened. …”

Moody helped tip the stuff down Harry’s throat; he coughed, a peppery taste burning his throat. Moody’s office came into sharper focus, and so did Moody himself. …He looked as white as Fudge had looked, and both eyes were fixed unblinkingly upon Harry’s face.

“Voldemort’s back, Harry? You sure he’s back? How did he do it?”

“He took a bone from his father’s grave, Wormtail’s hand, and my blood…” Harry said, his head was feeling clearer. It was easier to lie now.

“And the Death Eaters? They returned?”

“Yes, loads of them.”

“How did he treat them,” Moody asked quietly. “Did he forgive them?”

Harry’s mind started working normally again. He remembered that there’s a Death Eater in Hogwarts. “There’s a Death Eater in Hogwarts,” he said. “But it’s not Karkaroff.”

“Karkaroff?” Moody said with an odd laugh. “Karkaroff fled tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn upon his arm. He betrayed too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to wish to meet them …. But I doubt he will get far. The Dark Lord has ways of tracking his enemies.”

“So he wasn’t the one who put my name in the goblet?”

“Course not, I did,” Moody said.

Harry head, but he didn’t believe. “No, you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t do that … you can’t have done…”

“I assure you I did,” Moody said, and his magical eye swung around and fixed upon the door, and Harry knew he was making sure that there was no one outside it. At the same time, Moody drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry.

“He forgave them, then?” he said. “The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?”

“What?”

“I asked you,” Moody said quietly, “whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.”

“You fired… What are you talking about…?” Harry asked, his mind working endlessly as Moody talked.

“I told you, Harry … I told you. If there’s one thing I hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them more. I expected him to punish them. I expected him to torture them. Tell me hurt them, Harry. …” Moody’s face was suddenly lit with an insane smile. “Tell me he told them that I, I alone remained faithful… prepared to risk everything to deliver to him the one thing he wanted above all… you.”

“You’ve made sure the Goblet of Fire chose me… you made sure that I won… preventing anything that could actually hurt me. That’s why I barely met any obstacles in the maze… and with Krum and Fleur… you were behind everything weren’t you?” Harry asked. “You told Hagrid to show me the Dragons… and you gave Neville the book about gillyweed.” Harry looked over Moody’s shoulder, foggy shapes were moving in the Foe-Glass on the wall. “Since you were patrolling the maze you were able to stun Fleur Delacour and control Krum with the Imperius Curse. …You were trying to use Krum to keep Cedric from getting the cup, leaving the path open for me.”

“The Dark Lord didn’t manage to kill you, Potter, and he so wanted to,” Moody whispered. “Imagine how he will reward me when he finds I have done it for him. I gave you to him—the thing he needed above all to regenerate—and then I killed you for him. I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter … closer than a son…”

The foggy shapes in the Foe-Glass were sharpening, had become more distinct. Harry could see the outlines of three people over Moody’s shoulder, moving closer and closer. But Moody wasn’t watching them. His magical eye was upon Harry.

“The Dark Lord and I,” Moody said, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers… very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure… the very great pleasure… of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

 _Got him,_ Harry couldn’t help but smirk. _Tom, the Death Eater in Hogwarts. I know who he is. I’m with him now and he has a wand pointed towards me._

“What are you smirking at Potter?” Moody demanded.

“You, Barty Crouch Jr.,” Harry smirked, internally laughing at the look of surprise on Moody’s face. “We had a suspicion of who the Death Eater was, and we were so sure that it was Karkaroff… but now that you’ve told me this, well, it is only too simple. ‘The pleasure of killing our fathers’? Oh please Barty, if you couldn’t be more obvious. If you were trying to hide your identity, it would help if you kept that little fact a secret Barty. To think it was luck that we watched your trial the day you killed your father and hurt Draco… something that you will pay for mind you. After all, the Dark Lord never forgave his followers. Not a single one.”

“What are you talking about Potter?” Moody demanded, his normal eye bulging as his voice raised uncontrollably.

Harry only laughed again. “The Lord you were following is gone Barty, dead. We made sure of that. But don’t worry, a new Dark Lord has risen. One who will maim and harm all of those who dares to hurt his prince. Harry looked over Moody’s shoulder. The figures were so clear now. “Would you like to know how we’ve done it Barty? I’ll tell you… or maybe not.”

“You lie!” Moody yelled. He raised his wand, he opened is mouth; Harry sat perfectly still—

“Stupefy!” There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody’s office was blasted apart—

Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry, still staring at the place where Moody’s face had been, saw Albus Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall looking back at him out of the Foe-Glass. He looked around and saw the three of them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched.

The look upon Dumbledore’s face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore’s face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was a cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.

He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody’s unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face was still visible, glaring into the room. Professor McGonagall went straight to Harry.

“Come along, Potter,” she whispered. “The thin line of her mouth was twitching as though she was about to cry. “Come along… hospital wing…”

“No,” Dumbledore said sharply.

“Dumbledore, he ought to—look at him—he’s been through enough tonight—“

“He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand,” Dumbledore said curtly. “Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why.”

“Crouch,” Harry said. “Barty Crouch Jr. … that’s who he is, he’s not Professor Moody at all.”

The adults looked at Harry shocked. Harry looked at the three of them. “He said that both he and Voldemort killed their fathers…and Crouch is dead so…and the memory Tom and I watched in your office sir… I just connected them and…” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.”

If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore bent over Moody’s limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody’s hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. He turned to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. Harry heard footsteps and looked to see Tom walking briskly towards them, his Ravenclaw robes billowing behind him.

“Harry!” He said as he stepped into the office. “I’m sorry Professor, but when I saw Professor Moody take Harry away I had to follow.” He knelt near Harry and grabbed his face with both hands. “Don’t worry—he is safe,” Tom whispered. “He is safe—you did it.” Tom smiled and kissed Harry’s forehead.

Tom looked around and saw the Marauder’s Map on a desk next to them. “Harry, why does Professor Moody have your map?” he asked.

Dumbledore looked over his shoulder. “He is not Professor Moody. Stay away from him, for your protection,” Dumbledore said before returning to unlocking the seven locks, each one revealing different contents each time. The seventh and final lock revealed a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Dumbledore brought the second Moody out of the pit and wrapped the imposter’s robes around him. He looked at Tom and Harry. Dumbledore picked up the flask, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.

“Polyjuice Potion, Harry, Tom,” Dumbledore said. “It seems that you are correct Harry, this man before you is Barty Crouch Jr. The son of the unfortunately recently deceased Barty Crouch.”

Harry and Tom stared at the Stunned Moody. Harry couldn’t help but feel a sense of joy inside him. They’ve done it, they’re going to get away with everything. Tom’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Sir… should I take Harry to the hospital wing? His leg…”

Harry looked down at his leg, it was still bloodied from the maze. Dumbledore looked between the both of them. “I wanted Harry here to he can understand why everything that happened, happened. However… it seems that you have already figured it out Harry.”

Harry nodded. “He caused everything… it’s because of him that Cedric’s… that Cedric’s…”

“Is going to be all right,” Dumbledore finished.

“What?” Harry said looking at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Diggory is not dead Harry, and it is thanks to Mr. Riddle here, who informed us frightened adults that Cedric was alive, but dying,” Dumbledore said. “He came into the crowd looking for you but instead saw Amos Diggory clutching his dying son insisting that he was gone. Thomas here… persuaded most of us to calm down and examine Cedric Diggory once again. It helped that he set off a firework with his wand.”

“I couldn’t have let him die like that, not after the trouble he and Harry went through,” Tom said. Harry immediately turned and hugged Tom, squeezing him very tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence. …

Then, before Harry’s very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth; the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled grey hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place; next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man’s face as a real eye replaced it; it rolled way across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Harry saw a man lying before him, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. Harry looked at Tom who shared a knowing look. There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was right behind them.

“Crouch!” Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. “Barty Crouch!”

“Good heavens,” Professor McGonagall said, stopping dead staring down at the man on the floor.

Dumbledore looked at Harry. “I believe that what Professor McGonagall said was true, it would be best if you went to the hospital wing Harry, since it seems that you have worked out the truth before even I could. …Mr. Riddle, if you would be so kind as to escort him?”

“Of course, Professor,” Tom said. He placed Harry’s arm around his shoulder, holding it there as his other arm went around Harry’s waist. They limped out of the office as Winky the house-elf rushed in, crying on her master. They walked slowly, Tom taking extra caution with Harry’s leg, and waited until they were well out of earshot to begin speaking. “How did you do it? What about the others?” Harry asked.

Tom smirked. “I told you we are connected, my love,” Tom said. “I can still hear your thoughts. Which is a miraculous thing, or else Diggory would surely have died due to his father’s ineptitude. I must say, Cedric is a massive improvement over his father.”

Harry smiled and rested his head on Tom’s shoulder. “So he’s safe…”

“Yes, he is safe, and waiting for you. Though he is still unconscious once he hears how both you and I save him… I believe we might have our own personal medic,” Tom said. “As for the others… they’ve all gotten what they deserved and the next step of our plan will begin.”

“What step is that?” Harry asked.

“Making the old man look like a fool,” Tom smirked. “We do not want the public scared, do we? The Dark Lord and his Dark Prince… a frightening tale to keep the children in line. I am not ready to make that tale a known reality. I have more important things first, making sure that my love is fully healed for instance. … I am sorry again, for possessing your body.”

“Don’t be, we saved Cedric,” Harry said. “Just… warn me next time, or ask.”

“I will do that Harry,” Tom chuckled. They walked up a small flight of stairs. “I’ve met Mrs. Weasley,” Tom said. “Once she heard my name she gave me quite a look. ‘We need to talk,’ she said. Should I be worried Harry?”

“About Mrs. Weasley? Not at all,” Harry laughed. “The worst she can do to the Dark Lord is give a stern talking to before setting you to do chores.”

Tom chuckled. “Well, I will certainly have my hands full, won’t I? Doing both her chores and my own.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“Riddle Manor Harry, our new home,” Tom said. “It is a ruin now, but I will restore it into a new glory fit for the two of us. You can escape the Muggles and come live with me.”

“Tom,” Harry began to tear up. “Thank you…” he whispered.

They stopped at the top of the stairwell and Tom kissed Harry. “I love you Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled and returned the kiss with all the passion in his exhausted body. “I love you too, Thomas Riddle,” he said, his lips against Tom’s.

Tom smirked. “Let us go to the Hospital Wing then, come my Prince.”

“Yes, my Lord.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter XVIII**

When Tom pushed open the door to the hospital wing, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, Draco, and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him. All of the whipped around as Harry and Tom entered, and Mrs. Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream.

“Harry! Oh Harry!”

She started to hurry toward him, but Tom moved between them.

“Mrs. Weasley, I presume? I am Thomas Riddle, Harry’s boyfriend. If you can listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He had to relive it for me and Dumbledore. What he needs right now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he wants, you can stay with him,” he added looking around at Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Bill too, “you may do so. But please don’t question him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was very white. She rounded to Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, “Did you hear? He needs quiet!”

Tom helped Harry to a nearby bed and they both looked at Draco who looked extremely worried. “Draco,” Tom nodded.

“Potter… for once can you go one day without almost dying?” Draco asked without a bite or hint of snark.

Harry smiled and said, “If I did, then I wouldn’t be your best friend, would I?”

“No… no I guess you won’t,” Draco sighed. “Have a good sleep… Harry.” He added, they both smiled

Harry caught a glimpse of Cedric lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room, his parents asleep next to it. “Will he be okay?” he asked Madam Pomfrey.

“He’ll be fine,” Madam Pomfrey said, giving Harry some pajamas and pulling screens around him. “He’s very lucky your friend here noticed that he was alive. His dad might have lost him a second time if he didn’t.”

Tom just smiled and gave a small nod of appreciation. He insisted to dress Harry himself, pulling Harry’s robes off and putting the pajamas on. “Before they come in, I need to tell you this,” Tom whispered. “I’ll be leaving you for a while tonight. I will be doing the same that I have done with Professor Flitwick with the other Professors in the castle. Any subjects I should avoid?” Tom added with a small smirk.

“Divination. Avoid it,” Harry said.

Tom gave a soft laugh. “Okay, noted. I will see you in the morning, my love.” He kissed Harry softly when Harry got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and Draco came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.

“I’m all right,” he told them. “Just tired.”

Mrs. Weasley’s eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bedcovers unnecessarily.

Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a small bottle of some purple potion and a goblet.

“You’ll need to drink all of this, Potter,” she said. “It’s a potion for dreamless sleep.”

Harry took the goblet and drank a few mouthfuls. He felt himself becoming very drowsy at once. Everything around him became hazy; the lamps around the hospital wing seemed to be winking at him in a friendly way through the screen around his bed; his body felt as though it was sinking deeper into the warmth of the feather mattress. Before he could finish the potion, before he could say another word, his exhaustion had carried him off to sleep, Tom’s words drifting with him as his boyfriend said, “Madam Pomfrey, can I speak with you privately…”

 

Altering Madam Pomfrey’s mind was easy. All Tom had to do was make sure that she knew of his existence as a student. He walked out of Madam Pomfrey’s office and looked at Harry sleeping peacefully. He smiled and turned to leave. “Thomas Riddle, where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice demanded.

Tom turned around to see the woman giving him the sharpest glare she could muster. “Come here young man,” she said.

“I’m sorry but I just want to write a quick letter to my parents,” Tom said smoothly.

“No you aren’t,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Harry was almost gone tonight and we are all going to stay here tonight until he wakes up again.”

Tom was shocked. Here was a common looking homely witch telling him, the Dark Lord, what to do. Harry was not lying when it came to Mrs. Weasley, Tom thought. He just smiled and said, “I wish I could, but I must tell my parents around this. I tell my mother and father everything about Harry and they were really worried about Harry tonight.”

“In that case stay here and write the letter. Hermione, dear, give the boy a piece of parchment please,” Mrs. Weasley said, his voice turning from strict, to soft when she turned to Hermione, and back to strict when she looked at Tom and said, “Besides I wish to have a talk with you. A very long talk.”

“A talk that I am sure we will both enjoy,” Tom said, “but I must really go to the Owlery to write the letter. That way there is no delay between when I’ve written the letter and sent it.”

Mrs. Weasley looked extremely irritated. “Harry Potter, your boyfriend, had barely escaped the Third Task and You-Know-Who. You will do the proper thing and sit quietly here to console him when he wakes up, not running around the castle to send a letter!”

Tom frowned at the woman’s stubbornness. “I am not suggesting that I leave the entire night, an hour is all I ask for. Harry will barely notice that I’m gone.”

“But I will be. I’ve been looking after that boy for four years, and when I say you will sit down with the rest of us then that is exactly what you will do mister,” Mrs. Weasley said, his tone of voice indicating that her word was final.

“Better what she says mate, makes things easier,” Bill said stretching in his chair.

Tom looked at Draco. “Malfoy, a word?”

Draco glanced between Ron and Mrs. Weasley before turning to Tom. “I think… it would be best if you just sat down… Tom,” Draco said awkwardly before moving this seat closer to Ron. Mrs. Weasley nodded and pointed to an empty seat next to Harry’s bed.

Tom frowned. He needed to change the staff members’ memories before they start to get suspicious of him. What would happen if he allowed them to go a night with no memories of him? He needed to use the confusion now or else—

The door opened and Professor Dumbledore walked in, accompanied by a big black dog. “Here he is,” Dumbledore said to the dog. “I will be back to speak to you all later, for now rest here with Harry. Don’t worry Pomfrey, I assure you that he is extremely well trained.” Tom watched as the dog walked its way towards Harry’s bed and jumped onto one of the seats, sitting on it silently. Tom just eyed the dog curiously as did Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and Draco. Ron and Hermione seemed to be fine with him sitting there. Dumbledore left and Mrs. Weasley turned her attention to Tom who was still the only one standing. “Mr. Riddle,” she said.

Tom looked at the small crowd and with a frustrated noise moved to the closest seat to Harry, which was occupied by the dog. _I am not going to fight a dog for a bloody seat,_ Tom thought to himself as he instead sat down at the edge of Harry’s bed. He looked at Harry and scoffed. “Fool left his glasses on,” he whispered as he moved to gently take them off. Closing them he placed them in an inside pocket of his robes. The dog just watched him.

 _I need to change the staff’s memories,_ Tom thought to himself, _but there is no way I can do that if that woman doesn’t stop harassing me to sit down. If Harry wasn’t so fond of her this wouldn’t be a problem, but because it is Mrs. Weasley, it will be. … Perhaps I can make the dog run away and have her chase him? Not only will that let me an opportunity to leave, but it might as well be a laugh or two. Or maybe I can have Malfoy serve as a distraction… have himself and Weasley commit an action that will get Mrs. Weasley’s undivided attention…_

“So now that we can finally have a talk, Thomas, I want to know all about you,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice interrupted Tom’s thoughts.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

‘You heard me young man, I’ve raised Harry for four years and done a better job than those muggle relatives of his, so you will tell me everything there is about yourself before Harry wakes up or I swear you will have to search the world looking for him,” Mrs. Weasley said seriously, her arms crossed.

“What would you like to know?” Tom asked.

“First of all, I would like to know who your parents are,” Mrs. Weasley said, “and how did you and Harry meet?”

Tom felt all eyes shift towards him. He just smiled and said, “My parents are professors at a university, my mother is a historian and my father studies English. I’m Muggleborn, you see.”

“Really? That sounds exciting where do they teach?” Hermione asked. “I’m a Muggleborn as well.”

“Where do they teach?” Tom repeated, his mind working rapidly, trying to think of any city. “They teach in… the Keele University. Anyway, as for how Harry and I met… we met in my fourth year two years ago. I don’t get out of the Ravenclaw tower much, I’d rather spend my time reading or working on my own projects. But one day I had to step out to go to the library where I’ve ran into Harry. He was the one who started the conversation and before I knew it, I was watching a Quidditch game that Harry was playing in. We continued talking and at the end of my fifth year I’ve gotten the nerve to ask him out and we’ve been dating ever since. Honestly before I met Harry I could barely mutter a sentence. It was him who brought me out of my shell.” Tom reached towards Harry’s hand and rubbed it affectionately, his thumb going over the ring that Tom gave him during Christmas.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Molly said with a slight smile. “Now about that ring…”

“Oh… that,” Tom said. He looked down at the ring and smiled at it, thinking of the mystery that still laid inside. “It was a gift from myself to him, a pre-engagement ring if you want to call it that.” The dog sat up taller at those words for some reason and Tom could swear he heard a very soft growl. He ignored it. “I’ve gave it to Harry during Christmas. The ring was my grandfather’s. He gave it to me when he passed and I’ve decided to give it to Harry.”

“As a… pre-engagement gift?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Precisely yes,” Tom said.

“Are you mad? The boy is only fourteen! And you—neither of you are out of Hogwarts! Why did you think that was a good idea?” Mrs. Weasley demanded.

Tom was stunned by the question. He was hoping that Mrs. Weasley would just accept the answer without a problem. “Well… it was our two year anniversary, two years knowing each other… and we love each other very much—“

“He is only fourteen, I’m sure he barely knows how he feels about the weather most of the time,” Mrs. Weasley insisted.

“Yes but still the fact is that we love each other very much. Harry just recently helped me through a… uh difficult time. And when others left me Harry just smiled and told me that there is no way he’s leaving my side,” Tom said. _Not that he can’t_ Tom thought. _We’re connected by blood now Harry._

“Mum, didn’t you and Dad start dating in Hogwarts?” Bill asked.

“Yes we did but your father and I were much older than fourteen,” Mrs. Weasley said. “We started in our sixth year when we were both sixteen years old, not just one of us,” she added crossly to Tom.

“If it helps, I can assure that Harry controls everything,” Tom said. “The most we’ve ever done is kiss, and even then, Harry starts all of them.” He lifted his hand which was still holding Harry’s, “This is more than enough for me.”

Mrs. Weasley just gave Tom a sharp look, as was the black dog. Tom turned to look at the dog for a moment before turned to Draco, who was staring at the dog as well. Ron leaned over to Draco and whispered, “That’s Snuffles.” Which caused the blonde to nod understandingly.

 _Black looks different when I’m staring at him with an actual body,_ Tom thought. _Normally it was through Harry’s eyes._

“What made you even think of giving the ring to Harry in the first place?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Tom fashioned a blush on his cheeks. “My grandfather told me that I could give the ring to whomever I want… and once I knew that Harry and I were in for the long-term… it just seemed right,” he said.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, accepting that answer with an “he must have been a sweet old thing.”

“So Tom, you said you’re in Sixth year, yeah?” Bill asked, “Any ideas for what you’re going to do after Hogwarts?”

“Actually… I’ve thought about seeing if I can teach here,” Tom said. “Maybe for Defense Against the Dark Arts if we’ve continued to have this problem or maybe History of Magic. I’ve gotten Outstandings in both of them, as well as Charms, Transfigurations, Potions, and Herbology…”

“Really?” Hermione asked, amazed.

“Yeah… if I can be honest… I’ve gotten ‘Outstandings’ in all of my tests,” Tom said. He wasn’t exactly lying, he’d gotten ‘Outstandings’ on all of his subjects fifty years ago when he first taken his O.W.L. exams. It shouldn’t be too difficult to use his prior knowledge as well as the ever-growing knowledge that the husk gathered to make that a reality again.

“That’s incredible! I’ve never heard of that,” Hermione said. “What subjects did you take? Were the tests particularly hard? Which was more difficult the practical or the written portions? I think the practical portions but you’ll never know with some people. Did you get an award for getting top score—“

“Hermione! Let the man breathe,” Ron said, causing Hermione to blush in embarrassment. Tom chuckled and turned his attention to her.

“Yes, you do get an award. The ‘Medal for Magical Merit,’ which you can go see right now if you want. But as for the subjects… Well besides the core subjects, I’ve took Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. … Though now I am just continuing Ancient Runes,” Tom said. _I must remember to create a second award,_ Tom thought to himself.

“Are you in any classes with my boys?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“You mean the twins?” Tom asked, adding their names to a mental list of people whose memories he needed to alter. “Yes, I do. They’re in my classes.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded, “How are they? Do they pay attention? Or do they not even listen to your professors?” she asked.

“They’re… they act usual,” Tom said vaguely. “They exact exactly how you expect, Mrs. Weasley.”

“I see,” Mrs. Weasley muttered. “I’m going to have a talk with them. …”

The sound of shouting and running started to come close towards the hospital wing. “They’ll wake him if they don’t shut up!”

“What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?”

Tom looked at Harry and frowned when he saw his boyfriend was awake. “You barely slept,” Tom said giving Harry his glasses.

“That’s Fudge’s voice,” Mrs. Weasley whispered, already on her feet. “And that’s Minerva McGonagall’s, isn’t it? But what are they arguing about?”

“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—“Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

“You should never have brought it inside the castle!” Professor McGonagall yelled. “When Dumbledore finds out—“

The hospital doors burst open. Fudge came striding up the ward. Professor McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

“He’s not here,” Mrs. Weasley said angrily. “This is a hospital wing, Minister, don’t you think you’d do better to—“

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

“What has happened?” Dumbledore said sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. “Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I’m surprised at you—I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch—“

“There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!” she shrieked. “The Minister has seen to that!”

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and her hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.

“When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight’s events,” Snape said, in a low voice, “he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch—“

“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but—“

“My dear woman!” Fudge roared, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, “as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possible dangerous—“

McGonagall’s voice drowned Fudge’s.

“The moment that—that thing entered the room,” she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, “it swooped down on Crouch and—and—“

Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal Kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.

“By all accounts, he is no loss!” Fudge blustered. “It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!”

“But he cannot give testimony, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. He was staring hard at Fudge, as though seeing him plainly for the first time. “He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people.”

“Why he killed them? Well, that’s no mystery, is it?” Fudge blustered. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!”

“Lord Voldemort _was_ giving him instructions, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said. “Those people’s deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body.”

Fudge looked as though someone had just swung a heavy weight into his face. Dazed and blinking, he stared back at Dumbledore as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard. Tom leaned into Harry and whispered, quite loudly, “When was the Minister of Magic such an inept imbecile?”

“I will not allow to be talked about that way!” Fudge roared at Tom, who just stared at him. “Now see here Dumbledore, you—you can’t seriously believe that. You-Know-Who—back? Come now, come now… certainly, Crouch may have believed himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who’s orders—but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore …”

“When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort,” Dumbledore said steadily. “He witnessed Lord Voldemort’s rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office.”

Dumbledore glanced around at Harry and saw that he was awake, but shook his head and said, “I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight.”

Fudge’s curious smile lingered. “He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, “You are—er—prepared to take Harry’s word on this, are you, Dumbledore?”

There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by Sirius growling.

“Certainly, I believe Harry,” Dumbledore said. His eyes were blazing now. “I heard Crouch’s confession, and I heard Harry’s account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stores make sense, they explain everything that happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer.”

“If need a third account you can simply ask Cedric when he wakes up,” Tom noted. “I mean, he too was a witness, granted he almost died to yours and Mr. Diggory’s ineptitude.”

“I will not allow a child to talk to me that way, boy,” Fudge said, his curious smile gone. “And we will not wait for Cedric Diggory to awaken when we know it is preposterous. Are you all prepared to believe You-Know-Who has returned, on the return of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who…well…”

Fudge shot Harry another look, and Harry suddenly understood. “Been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge?” he asked quietly, causing Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Draco to jump. None of them realized he was awake.

“And if I have?” he said, looking at Dumbledore. “If I have discovered that you’ve been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place—“

“If that is what you call the pain Harry’s scar causes him—“

“Quiet you,” Fudge said at Tom. “Dumbledore, you have to admit that he has been having these pains, eh? Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly—hallucinations?”

“Listen to me, Cornelius,” Dumbledore said, taking a step toward Fudge, and once again, he seemed to radiate the indefinable sense of power that Harry had felt after Dumbledore had stunned Crouch. “Harry is as sane as you and I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by or feeling particularly murderous.”

“Look,” Harry yelled, “I saw Voldemort come back! I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you names! Amycus Carrow—“

Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape’s eyes flew back to Fudge.

“The Carrows were cleared!” Fudge said, visibly affronted. “A very old family—donations to many good causes—“

“Macnair!” Harry continued.

“Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!”

“Avery—Nott—Crabbe—Goyle—“

“You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!” Fudge said angrily. “You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven’s sake, Dumbledore—the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year, too—his takes are getting taller, and you’re still swallowing them—the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he’s trustworthy?”

“You are without a doubt the most incompetent Minister of Magic I have ever heard of,” Tom spoke again. “Here Harry is giving you names of Death Eaters and you are brushing them away like the cowardly thing you are!”

“I told you not to talk to me, boy! Dumbledore who is this student?” Fudge yelled.

“A Mr. Riddle,” Dumbledore said. “A student who is correct in this manner Cornelius. You are acting like a blind coward.”

“Now, see here, Dumbledore,” Fudge said, waving a threatening finger. “I’ve given you free rein, always. I’ve had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I’ve kept quiet. There aren’t many who’d have let you hire werewolves, keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you’re going to work against me—“

“The only one against whom I intend to work,” Dumbledore said, “is Lord Voldemort. If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”

It seemed Fudge could think of no answer to this. He rocked backward and forward on his small feet for a moment and spun his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, he said, with a hint of a plea in his voice. “He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be …”

Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling p the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He stuck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

“There,” Snape said harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side.”

Fudge stepped back from Snape too. He was shaking his head. He did not seem to have taken in a word Snape had said. He stared, apparently repelled by the ugly mark on Snape’s arm, and then looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, “I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I have no more to add. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry.”

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry’s bed.

“Your winnings,” he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry’s bedside table. He pulled a second one out and dropped it as well. “And Diggory’s if he wakes up. One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…”

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head, looked over at the Diggorys who somehow kept sleeping through all of this racket, and walked out of the room, Tom yelling after him, “If he dies, you and Mr. Diggory are murderers!”

Dumbledore turned to the group and started talking to the adults. Tom turned to Harry. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I think so…”

Tom sighed. “Fudge is such an idiot. We will have to replace him with someone more… effective when we can.”

Harry nodded. “We do,” he whispered. “But how do you plan to do that?”

“That, I still need to think about,” Tom whispered. “But it looks like the Ministry and Dumbledore will be at each other’s throats for a while. …We could use that.”

“We could,” Harry whispered. “But you’ll need to think more about that, don’t you?”

“Of course my love,” Tom whispered. They looked around to see Bill and Professor McGonagall were gone. The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

“Sirius Black!” she shrieked, pointing at him.

“Mum, shut up!” Ron yelled. “It’s okay!”

Snape had not yelled or jumped backward, but the look on his face was one of mingled fury and horror. “Him!” he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face showed equal dislike. “What is he doing here?”

“He is here at my invitation,” Dumbledore said, looking between then, “as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other.”

The two adults were eyeing each other with the utmost loathing.

“I will settle, in the short term,” Dumbledore said, with a bite of impatience in his voice, “for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united, there is no hope for any of us.”

Very slowly—but still glaring at each other as though each wished the other nothing but ill—Sirius and Snape moved toward each other and shook hands. They let go extremely quickly.

“That will do to be going on with,” Dumbledore said, stepping between then once more. “Now I have work for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher—the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin’s for a while; I will contact you there.”

“But—“ Harry said.

He wanted Sirius to stay. He did not want to have to say goodbye again so quickly.

“You’ll see me very soon, Harry,” Sirius said turning to him. “I promise you. And you as well Tom, you better believe we will have a talk of our own.”

Tom just nodded. Sirius grasped Harry’s hand briefly, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran through the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. …”

“I am,” Snape said.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

“Then good luck,” Dumbledore said, and he watched, with a trance of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Tom looked at Harry. “You should go back to sleep Harry. Drink the rest of your potion. Don’t worry: I’ll be here when you wake up.” Tom reached for the goblet as Harry slumped back into the pillow. There was a loud slamming noise, and Harry and Tom looked around. Hermione was standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Your potion, Harry,” Tom said. Harry drank it in one gulp. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him.

 

Tom stood up and looked at the Weasleys and Hermione and Draco. He silently reached over for the second pouch of money and walked over towards Cedric’s bed. Placing them on the table next to Cedric, Tom stared at the boy for a moment. He looked peaceful, calm, as if he was only sleeping. Tom looked over to Harry before looking back at Cedric. He bent down to Cedric’s ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But you should wake up… soon I hope. But I don’t think you’ll be the same. Dying does that to a person, if only for a second.”

He stood tall and turned to the others. “I think I’ll mail my letter now,” he said softly. “If you’ll allow me, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Yeah… sure,” Mrs. Weasley nodded. Tom exited the hospital wing, closing the door behind him. He sighed and looked around. “First I should make myself a medal,” he said to himself as he made his way to the trophy room on the second floor. He walked quickly, just wanting to get everything done so he could return to Harry. Luckily the hospital wing and trophy room were on the same floor so it was simple for Tom to reach it. He didn’t bother looking at the other rewards instead going to where he remembered his medal was from fifty years ago and went there. Aiming his wand at it, he made a duplicate and changed the dates so it now matched his new life as Thomas Edward Riddle. With that done he pulled out the Marauder’s Map, which he took from Moody’s office, and opened it. “Professor Babbling is the nearest,” he said reading the map. “Might as well start with her.”

He closed the map and made his way to Professor Babbling’s office. The door was slightly open, Professor Babbling sitting in an armchair reading a book. “What are you doing out of bed so late?” she asked.

Tom had no time with small talk, instead he just placed his hand into his pocket, aimed his wand at Professor Babbling, and placed her into an enchanted sleep before reworking her memories. With the magical improvement the husk gave him when he revived, the task turned out surprisingly simple. All he had to do was alter her memories for classes, simple. It took him twenty minutes but when he was done he left Professor Babbling in her seat still fast asleep and opened the Marauder’s Map once more. “Severus Snape will be much more difficult,” Tom said to himself as he watched Snape’s dot moving around. “I should save him for last… how about Professor Sprout next.”

Tom moved to the greenhouses, using the Marauder’s Map to make sure to avoid anybody who would still roam the halls. It was surprisingly easier than the last time he altered Professor Flitwick’s memories. Using the map Tom found no trouble moving from Professor to Professor, and thanks to the uproar tonight’s events have caused nearly all the professors were distracted making it easier for Tom to access their memories and alter them. At the end of two hours, Tom only had two professors left, not counting Dumbledore whom he decided he wasn’t going to change, which were Professors McGonagall and Snape.

Tom found her roaming the corridors of Hogwarts, apparently on her way back to her office. “Hello Professor McGonagall,” Tom said.

Professor McGonagall stopped and turned to Tom. “You were at the hospital wing with Harry, correct? Why aren’t you there or back in your dorms sleeping?” she asked.

“I’ll be with Harry soon, but before that I just need to do something,” Tom said.

“And could this something be… I am terribly sorry, but I cannot recall your name. I know all of the students in this school and your name is not coming to me,” Professor McGonagall frowned.

Tom smiled. “You forgot my name, Professor? Now that is inconsiderate, isn’t? Let me remind you.” He pulled his wand out and waved it. Professor McGonagall stood completely still, her eyes lolling as Tom stepped closer to her. “My name is Thomas Edward Riddle, Professor,” Tom whispered. “A star pupil. …” He began the same memory chain as he had done with the other professors: Tom inserting himself in all of their classes, showing to be a brilliant, if quiet, student. Tom couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, this was too easy. If he known that the husk held this much power, that he can change the memories of the entirety of Hogwarts Staff in just three hours… he wondered what else he could do. So many possibilities for him to perform.

With his job done, Tom released his hold on the Transfiguration Professor. Her eyes came back to focus and Tom said, as if starting from mid-sentence, “…send a letter to my parents about what happened to Harry tonight. …Professor are you okay?”

Professor McGonagall frowned, holding her hand to her forehead. “Oh yes Mr. Riddle, I am fine. It is just everything that happened tonight seemed to give me a headache. You go send your letter and return immediately to the hospital wing.”

“Of course Professor,” Tom smiled, bowing slightly. He walked past Professor McGonagall and smirked to himself. _All that is left is Snape, and then the old man will be alone. How will you fare Dumbledore, knowing that you are battling a war of truth on two fronts? And I am controlling both sides. How will you fall? Will it be excommunication? A sentencing to Azkaban? Or will I simply allow you your moment, let you in on my secret, and then kill you where you stand? So many possibilities Dumbledore… so many possibilities…_

Tom made his way into the dungeons and followed the map one last time as he walked to Snape’s office. He opened the door to find Snape hunched over a stack of papers, still looking pale. “Severus,” Tom said, causing Snape to look up.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Potter?” Snape said from his desk.

Tom smirked and walked further into the office. “I will be with Harry, worry you not Severus, but first there are some… things I need to do.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “You are not a student here,” he said. “I do not remember seeing you in my classroom even once. Who are you?”

Tom couldn’t help but laugh. Out of all the professors, Snape was the first one to question him this way. They all were apologetic they couldn’t remember his name or just did not ask. Tom took his wand out, which caused Snape to do the same. Snape sent a Stunner to Tom but he deflected it with ease. “Trying to stun your new student? My Severus, you are a naughty professor,” Tom smirked. “I can see how Harry hated you. And yet… you were loyal to me in the past… or were you? I’m beginning to doubt now.” Tom took a step closer to Snape.

“I will not ask again, who are you boy?” Snape demanded.

Tom just smirked at Snape. “You do not recognize me? Such a shame Severus… After all the information you’ve given me during the past… tell me, was any of that true?”

Snape eyed Tom suspiciously “Do you know what you’re indicating boy? I have no time for such foolishness—“

As if gliding through the air, Tom was suddenly at Snape’s side. He grabbed Snape’s left arm and pulled the robe up. “Maybe this will remind you,” he whispered coldly pressing his finger against the Dark Mark, which turned black.

Snape groaned in pain and glared at Tom for a moment. “It’s you,” he said.

“Yeah, it is… and now you will remember me,” Tom said. He pulled out his wand and pressed it directly against Snape’s temple, destroying any barriers Snape would have around his mind. Tom did not care nor even look for any insight Snape would give him. He forced himself once again into Snape’s mind and memory, adding his presence in all of Ravenclaw’s Potions class for the last six years. When he was done he just smirked at Snape. “Perhaps you’ll remember this encounter… but I rather you not. _Obliviate._ ”

Snape fell into his chair, a hazy confused look on his face. With his job done, Tom pocketed his wand and turned around. It was time to return to Harry.

 

Harry was released from the hospital wing the day later. Tom stayed by his side the entire time. As he was dressing to leave, Harry looked over at Cedric, who still hasn’t wake up. “Tom… Tom what is the matter with Cedric?” he asked his boyfriend.

Tom frowned. “Harry, when I’ve reached him… Cedric was very near death. If I was a second later, I could be too late. Even with the treatment Madam Pomfrey gave him, the boy will still need time to recover. Don’t worry about him, love, instead just focus on the end of the school year and what we will do during the summer,” Tom said. He wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed his neck. “Return to Gryffindor Tower Harry, I’ll have to go to Ravenclaw Tower.”

Harry relaxed against Tom’s chest. “You should have made yourself a Gryffindor,” he mused. “Then we could have stayed together all the time.”

Tom chuckled. ‘There are some lies that even I cannot tell Harry.” He kissed Harry’s neck again. “Go, I’ll need to stay with the Diggorys for a while.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He turned and got one last kiss from Tom before leaving the hospital wing and return to Gryffindor Tower. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry and Cedric alone, that nobody ask them questions or badger them to tell the story of what happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter’s article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. She was right, he is dangerous, but only to his enemies. And none of the students were his enemies. He found that he didn’t care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione and they were talking about other things, or else letting him sit in silence while they played chest. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn’t need to put into words. As soon as Harry entered the tower, Ron went up to him to tell him about a meeting Mrs. Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home.

“She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer,” he said. “But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first.”

“Why?” Harry said.

“She said Dumbledore’s got his reasons,” Ron said, shaking his head darkly. “I suppose we’ve got to trust him, haven’t we?”

Harry frowned. “Will Draco be at the Burrow?”

“Of course! And he’s staying with me!” Ron grinned. “Oh I can’t wait, I got so much planned for Fox and I to do!”

“Fox?” Harry asked, his eyebrows frowning in confusion. “Ron why do you call Draco fox?”

“Easy, he’s an Animagus,” Ron said. “What? You didn’t know?” he asked looking at Harry’s shocked expression. “Yeah he’s an Animagus, turns into this big fox. That’s how he found you in the woods that one time a month or so ago. He was outside already running around like a fox. Says it gives him a rush or something.”

“An Animagus… interesting,” Harry muttered to himself. He wondered if Tom knew.

 

It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his dreaded return to Private Drive. He just wanted to be with Tom, he didn’t even want to think about looking at his disgusting relatives. In the Great Hall the real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy, jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn’t blame him; Moody’s fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff’s chair was empty. Harry knew, as he sat down at Gryffindor Table, that it would be only a matter of time until he and Tom find him. Harry looked over to the Hufflepuff Table to see Cedric Diggory sitting there. He looked zoned out, as if he was struggling to keep focused on what was in front of him, but at least his skin had a healthy tone. Cedric looked up and their eyes met. Cedric smiled, his eyes focusing on Harry, and he waved gently, mouthing ‘Thank you.’ Harry returned the smile and wave.

Harry’s eyes turned from the Hufflepuff table towards Ravenclaw where Tom sat surrounded by the sixth year boys as well as some people Harry knew like Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and Cho Chang. Tom was mostly silent, sitting peacefully as the Ravenclaws around him talked normally as if Tom had always been there. Dumbledore stood up to make a speech but Harry found himself unable to concentrate on it. He just couldn’t stop staring at Tom, his boyfriend, his Dark Lord, sitting at the Ravenclaw Table. Sitting with a body that is all his own, a body that is the results of a year’s hard work, sacrifice, and loses. A body that cost three lives to get this far: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy… and Wormtail. Harry did not care about Wormtail’s death, in fact he welcomed it easily, but the Malfoys’… it still leaves a pit in his stomach thinking about it. Draco might forgive him, but he knew that he will never forgive himself. Their blood is on his hands, and his alone.

The feast went by and before Harry knew it, his fourth year was over. Harry’s trunk was packed; Hedwig was back in her cage on top of it. He, Ron, Hermione, and Draco were waiting in the crowded entrance hall with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer’s day.

“Harry, there you are.”

He looked around. Tom was walking towards him. “I was looking for you, love.”

Harry smiled and hugged him. Tom looked at Harry, then at Ron. “It is Ron, right?” Tom asked.

“Yeah… so we finally meet,” Ron smirked.

“I guess we do, and I am sorry to ask this so late, but my parents just sent me a letter,” Tom said pulling out a folded piece of paper with handwriting that wasn’t like his. “It seems that they’re renovating our home, so I have to ask if, just for a little while, I can stay with Harry at your place.”

“If it’s fine with my parents, why not,” Ron shrugged. “But I think they’ll have to talk with my mum first.”

“My parents?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said.

Tom was silent for a moment. “Very well,” he said. Harry looked at Tom for a moment but his boyfriend gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. The horseless carriages came and they’ve filtered into one.

The weather could not have been more different on the journey back to King’s Cross than it had been on their way to Hogwarts the previous September. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The five managed to find a compartment to themselves. They talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. Harry felt as though leaving the castle unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. They broke off their conversation only when the trolley arrived.

When Hermione returned from the trolley and put her money back into her schoolbag, she dislodged a copy of the Daily Prophet that she had been carrying in there. Harry looked at it, unsure whether he really wanted to know what it might say, but Hermione, seeing him looking at it, said calmly, “There’s nothing in there. You can look for yourself, but there’s nothing at all. I’ve been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you and Cedric won the tournament.”

“Sounds like Fudge is making the quiet,” Ron said from his seat; he was more or less laying on Draco’s lap as the Slytherin played with his ginger hair.

“He’ll never keep Rita quiet,” Harry said. “Not on a story like this.”

“Oh, Rita hasn’t written anything at all since the third task,” Hermione said in an oddly constrained voice. “As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now trembling slightly. “Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked.

“I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be coming onto the grounds,” Hermione said in a rush.

“How?”

“Well, it seems that she was really _bugging_ the castle,” Hermione said. “You see Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn—“

Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag.

“—into a beetle.”

“You’re kidding… she’s not…”

“Oh yes she is,” Hermione said happily, brandishing the jar at them. Inside were a few twigs and leave and one large, gat beetle.

“Interesting,” Draco drawled. “Look, there are markings around her antennae. Looks like those awful glasses she wears. So Granger, what will you do now?”

“I told her I’ll let her out when we get back to London,” Hermione said. “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.”

Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag. Tom leaned to Harry as he looked at Hermione. Tom looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead remained quiet. The rest of the ride past by with easy chatter, Harry, Ron, and Hermione doing most of the talking as Draco and Tom just listened. It was a surreal peaceful feeling in the compartment, a feeling that was only too shortly shattered as the Hogwarts Express slowed into the station.

The usual confusion and noise filled the corridors as the students began to disembark. Ron and Hermione left first, Draco following. Harry and Tom, however, stayed put.

“Harry love look at me,” Tom said.

Harry turned to his boyfriend and Tom took his hands. “I will find a way to get rid of your abusers. I know you dread returning to Private Drive, but please do not worry I will come for you. Here, take this as well.” Tom pulled out a wand out of his pocket. “It is Wormtail’s wand. The trace is far from it. If anything comes up: use it. Do you understand?”

“Yeah… thank you Tom.”

“I will be making our home perfect in the meanwhile. If all goes well, I will see you at the Weasley’s home. The Burrow, if I remember correctly,” Tom smiled.

“Yeah… the Burrow,” Harry said. Tom bent and kissed Harry fully. “I will make sure to ravage you there and take you completely like I should have the night my body was restored,” Tom whispered causing Harry to blush. Tom kissed Harry again, biting his lower lip lightly, and pulled away slowly, holding onto Harry’s lip till it snapped out between his teeth. “Come now my Prince, let’s return to the land of the Muggles one last time.”

“Yes my Lord,” Harry smiled taking Tom’s hand, and they left the train together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story! The sequel to this story, The Dark Prince's Coronation is out! I hope you all enjoy the continuing adventure of Tom and Harry as they tackle Harry's fifth year and all the trouble that it causes. Have a good day!


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